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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24084043">true north</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayre/pseuds/fayre'>fayre</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Childhood Friends to Lovers, Dragons (w/ hints of a httyd universe), Enemies to Lovers, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Shapeshifter, Slight Violence/Injury, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:40:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>27,980</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24084043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayre/pseuds/fayre</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you think I’ll kill you?”</p><p>He Tian swallows. Says, “Not particularly.”</p><p>A pause. The night swallows them whole, relentless, and He Tian wishes it’d do a better job at hiding the expression Guan Shan shows him now.</p><p>“Do you think I should?” Guan Shan asks him.</p><p>“That’s not my decision to make.”</p><p>“But it was,” Guan Shan says, voice rough. “That night. I think you should’ve killed me. I think it would’ve been easier.”</p><p>And He Tian, staring at the ceiling, his spine digging into the floorboards, far too aware of those amber eyes piercing him through the dark, says: “I think so, too.”</p><p> </p><p>(a fantasy shapeshifter AU)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>He Cheng/Brother Qiu (19 Days), He Tian/Mo Guanshan (19 Days), Jian Yi/Zhan Zhengxi (19 Days)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>285</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. afire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a brief forewarning: for this chapter (and this chapter only), settle in with a cup of coffee/tea. it's a long one.</p><p><b>EDIT 12/5/20:</b> please please <i>please</i> check out this <a href="https://guanishani.tumblr.com/post/619971993614401536/he-wakes-on-the-ground-its-a-tired-and-sluggish">amazing fanart</a> that the insanely talented @guanishani created for the opening scene of this fic! I truly cannot express the beauty of it, and I will be forever grateful for the love that this fic has received. enjoy! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He wakes on the ground. </p><p>It’s a tired and sluggish effort to pull his eyes open. Sensation comes slowly, like honey dripping between his fingers. There’s the faintest ringing in his ears; a hint of copper in his mouth. He blinks dizziness from the wave of his vision, and finds himself eye level with an ant. It carries something on its back, oblivious to its audience. Over a rock and out of sight. </p><p>He blinks. Slow. Once, twice, thrice. </p><p>
  <em> Breathe.  </em>
</p><p>A forest. His cheek is pressed against fallen leaves, his bare feet against a turned stone. The trees loom and whisper above him, orange light filtering through their leaves and warming his skin against the chill of a passing breeze. There’s a constant, faint hum — cicadas’ trill — and the landscape is darkened on the precipice of sunset, as a fern tickles his nose. </p><p>He tries to swallow. Winces at a sting on his tongue, mouth dry. Shallow breaths are like a distant echo in his head, detached yet present, and he’s not quite sure if it’s him who gives a sharp shout when he tries to sit up. Pain, numbed by his dazed state, now comes rushing in like water breaking past a dam. He grits his teeth against it, fingers digging into wet earth, forcing his body up on shaking arms. </p><p>A quick once-over; a fleeting inventory check. The world sways as his eyes sweep his body. His shirt is ripped and hanging from his shoulder, and his left pant leg is soaked through with blood, crimson staining the leaves around him. The tear in the pant’s fabric matches the tear in the skin beneath — he can feel his heartbeat in his thigh —  and he can only look at the weeping wound for so long before he has to look away.</p><p>But the sight of his arm outdoes it all. He bites back a wave of nausea as he rolls up the singed, blackened remains of his sleeve. The length of his forearm is blistered and burning, patches of it missing, dried blood and charred skin reaching his elbow. Some of it has begun forming crude scabs, wet and vulnerable.</p><p>Confounded, he tries to touch the angry red wound, to check the mark on his wrist beneath the flayed skin — but pulls away with a shrill hiss.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p><em> Bandages, </em>he thinks, drunken and addled. The forest floor sways as he staggers to a one-legged stand and crutches himself on a nearby trunk. Palm pressed against the bark, he looks about himself. There’s nothing to be found, nothing of use — except a single arrow among the leaves. Its iron tip is bloodied, haphazardly thrown a few feet from where he’d woken. He must have removed it himself before passing out, and he curses his rashness now as he tries to put weight on the injured leg and almost topples. </p><p>Catching his breath, he closes his eyes. Adrenaline is a delayed thing, its effects only now showing in his stuttering pulse and sickening stomach. With it, he sees flashes on the back of his eyelids: the clouds, the weapons, the fire. He remembers the autumn winds in his ears. Remembers the burning sensation in his thigh as he'd targeted the farmland.</p><p>The dizziness and disorientation that followed. The excruciating heat that blinded his eyes, and the smoke that filled his lungs. Remembers the impact against the first tree — then another, and another. </p><p>It’s the last thing he remembers. </p><p>Blinking fast, he breathes a curse beneath his breath; no energy for anything more than that. Panic is forgotten and useless, replaced by pain and nausea. Instead he thinks he can hear the faint, familiar bubbling of water — a stream, perhaps, where he can wash away the blood and soothe his burn and quench his parched throat. But the sunlight is disappearing quickly, shadows drawn long, and he knows he must move now if he hopes to find it before nightfall. </p><p>He braces himself, and takes a step forward. </p><p>Lightning shoots up his leg — fire in his veins — and he falls to his knee with a gasp. Realizes with a bitter curse that his good leg’s ankle is swollen to twice its size, his shoe missing.</p><p>A groan, then a shaky exhale. Common sense argues his best option is crawling his way to the stream, though his pride screams otherwise. But he doesn’t have much of a choice. The night would sooner leave him stranded and helpless before he could think twice about his decision. The world, in its trivial kindness, stops for no one.</p><p>Cradling his burned arm to his chest, he presses his hand to the twigs and rocks, vision blurry and bottom lip drawn between his teeth to hold in the noises—</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>Blood runs cold. He freezes.</p><p>“Is that… Hey, are you okay?”</p><p>He looks up. In the distance, among the trees, a shadow. </p><p>“Is something the matter?” it calls. “Do you need help?”</p><p>It comes closer. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat, blood in his ears. He can’t move. </p><p>“Sir? Or, uh, ma’am or whoever, I’m— I’m going to approach you, if that’s alright, and I…”</p><p>He doesn’t hear the rest of it. The world, dizzyingly, goes mute. Watching the figure move closer — <em> Is that a weapon it carries? — </em>breath stuck in his throat, body gone cold, he sees blackness close in on his vision. His arm gives out beneath him.</p><p>“Hey, wait—!”</p><p>Time falls through, and he passes out. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Do you need more hands?” Cheng asks as He Tian walks by. The latter’s arms are full with charred wood, almost too much to carry for one person, and Cheng raises a brow at the sight. “We can allocate more people to the area if necessary.”</p><p>He Tian tosses the wood into the growing pile, ash and dust springing from the debris like spores. Wiping the sweat of his cheek on his shoulder, he mutters, “You say that as if we have people to spare.”</p><p>“There are always people willing to help.”</p><p>“No, those people are choosing to rebuild their <em>homes</em> instead of the town’s property, heavens forbid,” He Tian tells him, dry. “Isn’t that something.”</p><p>The words roll off his tongue too easily; too familiar. Cheng doesn’t respond, instead following He Tian beneath the shade of a tree at the edge of the commons. The midday sun is hot and unforgiving and He Tian rolls up his sweat-damp sleeves in the face of it. He smells of ash and dirt, and the grimy feeling sticks to his skin like a second layer. </p><p>“You’re bleeding,” Cheng says, glancing the faint red stain growing on the side of He Tian’s shirt. He Tian doesn’t look at it, unbuttoning the top of his tunic. </p><p>“I already wrapped the wound.”</p><p>“It’s bleeding through.”</p><p>“And it will continue to do so, even if I replace it,” He Tian tells him, tone clipped. “Leave it.”</p><p>Cheng levels him with a look. After a moment, asks: “Is something the matter?”</p><p>He Tian exhales. In front of them, the commons crawl with stagnant life. The people look tired, a full day’s worth of manual labor dragging down their shoulders as they lug broken roof tiles and pieces of scorched walls in wagons. A group of children sit together near a well, hushed in the midst of the aftermath. Dogs sniff at their owners’ feet as they help their neighbors fix the singed craters in their business’s roofs, and piles of swept debris settle in front of doorsteps. </p><p>The atmosphere is always dense after an attack; desolation and loss hung low like poisoned fog over Kuoda. Some offer drinks of water to those who have been working hard, and others try to spread a tired smile among the murmured movement.</p><p>Each has their role, their place — though motivation wavers with each attack. Luckily, the destruction was manageable this time: only twenty-three buildings burned, but not demolished. The farmlands were left relatively untouched. And yet…</p><p>“He Tian.”</p><p>“I’m tired,” He Tian answers, voice edged. He wipes away sweat beading on his nose. “I got little sleep before the alarms sounded.”</p><p>“Have Jian Yi take your place for some time,” Cheng suggests, eyeing his brother’s state. He Tian knows what he sees. Purpled eyes and sweat-damp hair, shirt torn where his wound lies and body exhausted from enduring a bout of adrenaline that has long since passed and left disinclination in its wake. At the very least, Cheng has the decency to not comment on it.</p><p>“He’s busy.” At Cheng’s prompting look, He Tian exhales and explains, “He came across the wife of one of the men who died as we were heading to the marketplace, and she was…” He shakes his head, dismissive. “I left to help with the storage buildings while he stayed behind. He’s likely still with her.”</p><p>They wouldn’t have known of the woman’s loss had Jian Yi not asked if she needed help as they passed her quiet, hunched form on the street. The woman had opened her mouth as if to respond but didn’t get far. Tears had welled in her swollen, red eyes faster than Jian Yi could process what was happening and He Tian wasn’t able to make sense of her sudden, sobbed words.</p><p>The interaction was a pain, and they didn’t have time for it. There were more pressing issues at hand. But at Jian Yi’s persuasion, He Tian helped move her inside a nearby tailor’s shop, out of the public eye. Still, he didn’t see much use in him standing in the corner as Jian Yi whispered kind words to her trembling body. He left soon after without a word.</p><p>Now, Cheng folds his arms. “You should suggest he aid with the livestock and farms rather than with repair,” he says. “It might be good for him to be involved with something constructive.”</p><p>“I already have, on multiple occasions. He heeds no words unless they’re Zheng Xi’s.”</p><p>A sigh. “Well.”</p><p>They both know Jian Yi well enough. There’s no use in making the man do something if he hasn’t already set his mind to it. Unfortunately, the same goes the opposite way.</p><p>A breeze passes, cool on He Tian’s skin and through his hair, and he starts forward when breathing comes easier. “I’m returning to the south side.”</p><p>“You may as well stay. The council is going to address everyone soon.”</p><p>A pause, then He Tian turns. “Of what?” he asks, frowning. “We’ve already sunk the corpses.”</p><p>Cheng tilts his chin. “Rukou and Jinse sent word that they were attacked last night, too. A member of each’s council came, and we want to address the people as a whole to ensure—”</p><p>He Tian scoffs, sudden and ugly. “<em>We? </em>You sure have become comfortable with being groomed, haven’t you, brother?”</p><p>The impact is dangerous. Cheng’s eyes go dark, a waning moon eclipsed by contained ire.</p><p>“I’m doing as we were meant to do,” he says, voice level. “As should you. Attend the address, He Tian.”</p><p>With that, he leaves. An argument left untouched; a warning not to be dismissed. He Tian watches him go, tongue pressed to his teeth, and wonders how often their father sends Cheng his way. Every week? Every other day? Maybe, at this point, it’s up to Cheng’s well-directed discretion. A request turned to routine. </p><p>
  <em>Dear brother.</em>
</p><p>No more than a minute passes before He Tian hears footsteps in the fallen leaves behind him. They’re steady but quiet, and he tips down his chin as they approach.</p><p>“Were you waiting?”</p><p>“Of course,” Zheng Xi replies, coming up beside him. The movement wafts air; the brunette smells of dough and incense, a black sheep among a town of ash and sweat, a streak of rice flour on his neck yet to be discovered. “No one in their right mind would come between you two when you’re together.”</p><p>He Tian scoffs. “Smart.”</p><p>“Was it about the council again?” Zheng Xi asks him. His answer is a telling, bitter glance, and he smirks with distaste. “You ought to give in at this point, you know.”</p><p>“And give them the opportunity to breathe down my neck more often than they already do?” He Tian clicks his tongue, jaw working. “I’d sooner slit my throat.”</p><p>“The work might be good for you.”</p><p>He Tian ignores that. “I thought you were helping your mother and sister.”</p><p>Zheng Xi gives him a pointed look, aware of the topic change, but nonetheless replies, “I was, but we ran out of ingredients. We can’t make anything more until we trade with Rukou. But we were able to help all the homes close to ours and the ones whose shops were burned.” He frowns. “I think I’ve made close to forty loaves since this morning.”</p><p>He Tian smirks. “Your mother’s kindness is…”</p><p>“Overboard? Detrimental? Yes, I am aware,” Zheng Xi exhales, shaking his head. “She had us keep enough goods to get back only <em>half</em> of what we just gave away.”</p><p>“Rukou was attacked, too.”</p><p>Zheng Xi looks at him, stunned. “It was? It’s been a while since it’s been, hasn’t it?”</p><p>“Winter is around the corner,” He Tian says, looking to the sky. It’s clear now, but only a matter of time before heavy clouds and heavier snowfalls overcome the autumn’s stillness. “The shifters are becoming restless. Greedy.”</p><p>Zheng Xi frowns. Watches as a family unloads their crumbled wall with the rest of the debris in the commons’ centre. “I suppose,” he says, voice a bit dulled. Then, after a moment: “I hope we’re able to get what we need from trade, then. We can’t afford to purchase it all.”</p><p>They soak in that sentiment for a while. As they watch a man soothe his anxious horse down the street, He Tian wonders how long it will take for the Kuoda to regain the children in the streets. The smell of grilling meat through open windows. The chatter of farmers in the markets. </p><p>Normalcy. It’s a feeling he never thought he’d desire — but as the years pass, it’s only become more prevalent. It slips through his fingers every time he thinks it to be in reach, mocking and stubborn. </p><p>But after so many decades, the people have evolved. They’ve decided that, until normalcy is returned to them, they will rebuild. Recover. Whisper to the younger, more naive children that it was just a bad dream, and the children will believe it because they’ve nothing else to believe in. </p><p>And then the cycle continues. </p><p>“Have you seen Jian Yi?”</p><p>The question he was waiting for. He Tian nods. “He was helping with the clean-up for a while, but we ran into a woman whose husband died. He didn’t want to leave her alone.”</p><p>Zheng Xi runs a hand through his hair, agitated. “Of course,” he mutters beneath his breath. “Bloody stars. He’ll be in a <em> mood </em> for the rest of the day now.”</p><p>“He should be home by now. It’s been some time since then.” He Tian looks to the sky; the sun has fallen past midday and has started its descent downwards. “We should check now before the council starts the address.”</p><p>The groan Zheng Xi releases is well-received. “Another address? What else do they have to say? What else <em> can </em>they say?”</p><p><em> “Better luck next time,” </em> He Tian suggests in dry humor, and Zheng Xi gives him a disapproving look. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Most of the communal areas of Kuoda have been cleaned. The roads have been swept of the larger pieces of debris throughout the day and some of the business’s windows are already lit from the inside. They can hear music being played through one store’s shutters as they pass, quiet, and a child's hushed cry from another. Weaving through the centre of town is a familiar and easy thing for the both of them. Shortcuts between buildings come as second nature, and Zheng Xi leans down to rub between the ears of a stray cat who lives in the crevices of an old furnace behind a bakery. </p><p>But eventually the buildings thin out, more and more land between each one, and gravel roads give way to dirt-trodden paths. As a child, He Tian had always wished he lived out here. Further from the marketplace, and the temples and churches, and the noisy midday crowds. There’s a certain kind of peace that comes with hearing the windchimes of your distant neighbor’s shed and the brays of livestock that roam open fields, separated from the dense forest only by a row of round-rail fencing. </p><p>But the Jian’s were always an open door; an escape. Even now, as He Tian and Zheng Xi approach, the sight of the small home is a welcoming thing. The shutters on both levels of the house have been thrown open to let in fresh air, and the flowers and shrubbery surrounding it hug the outer walls like it’s a safe haven.</p><p>The house is old, built by Jian Yi’s great grandparents, but just right for a family their size. The only recent addition to the property is their shed and small barn — both of which He Tian and Zheng Xi helped to build years prior. </p><p>Zheng Xi knocks on the front door when they arrive, ever polite and composed. It only takes a few moments: the shuffle of furniture within, the lightweight footsteps. </p><p>When Jian Yi opens the door, his smile is wide and his expression bright — and then those pale eyes drift down to He Tian’s torso, and all relief leaves in a flood. </p><p>“Jian Yi,” Zheng Xi starts, unaware, but Jian Yi is already preoccupied as he reaches forward to yank He Tian’s shirt up. Curious himself, He Tian looks down. </p><p>It’s as Cheng said. The blood has soaked through both the bandage and his shirt, having gotten worse during the walk over, and the cut in his side is as fresh as it’d been hours ago. The pain is a numb thing, barely noticeable, but the look on Jian Yi’s face says otherwise. </p><p>“How?” he asks, lips pressed.</p><p>“When they were handing out the arrows,” He Tian tells him. “One of them caught my side. It’s not deep.” </p><p>“What? How did I not see it until just now?”</p><p>He Tian shrugs. “I wrapped it well enough.”</p><p>“It’s still <em> bleeding,” </em>Jian Yi says in disbelief, then shakes his head. “Had the arrows been poisoned yet? Do you feel unwell? Well nevermind, obviously they were not, otherwise your skin would be… You know what, just— come on.”</p><p>He turns and stomps inside. Zheng Xi only smirks when He Tian looks at him, and they both follow Jian Yi into his home. </p><p>He Tian is never prepared for the sharp, pungent smell of plants and oils that perfume the house. Gardening tools hang precariously from the walls, and there’s water stains on the floors and carpets. A pile of empty gardening pots are gathered in the corner of the kitchen and hanging flowers sway by the windows, neatly arranged to face the sunlight. </p><p>The common room is composed of a bookcase, a desk cluttered with notes and open journals, and clothes hanging to dry by the back door. The shelves above the seating area are lined with jars and baskets of various contents, and their fireplace is adorned with paintings from Jian Yi’s childhood. Next to it, the large cedar wood cabinets hold his mother’s storage, through which Jian Yi rummages as He Tian and Zheng Xi sink into the chairs at the small table. </p><p>Looking around, Zheng Xi frowns. </p><p>“Where’s your family?” he asks as Jian Yi pulls out a latched box and begins to shift through it. </p><p>“Just around the corner, in their room,” Jian Yi answers, focused. “Mum is giving dad some tea. He woke up feeling a bit... Ah, here it is!” He gestures to He Tian, holding up a roll of fresh bandage like a prized catch from the Nan River. “Take off your shirt, idiot.”</p><p>With little motive to argue, He Tian complies. He starts peeling away his soiled wraps as Jian Yi grabs a wet cloth from the kitchen and plucks a jar from the shelves, screwing it open as he takes a knee next to He Tian. For a second the blonde merely inspects the wound, face furrowed in a way that reminds He Tian of the stray cat. </p><p>“You’re lucky,” he says eventually, dabbing away dried blood with the cloth. “It’s not deep enough for stitches and no sign of infection, but it’ll bleed for a while with how much you’re moving around.”</p><p>“I already knew that, dear doctor,” He Tian says somewhat blandly, and Jian Yi sticks his tongue out at him. The jar’s contents — a salve — are gently administered to the surrounding skin (“To help with scabbing and scarring!”), and as Jian Yi stands to apply the new bandages, Zheng Xi tilts his head.</p><p>“I'll never understand why you refuse to take over your mother’s business,” he says, arms loosely folded. “It’s like I’m watching talent being thrown out the window.”</p><p>Jian Yi puffs up. “It’s not a <em> business—“ </em></p><p>“She makes money.” </p><p>“It’s a profitable <em> hobby,” </em> the blond settles with, pulling the bandages tight enough to make He Tian wince. “You guys know I wouldn’t be able to sit in a house all day surrounded by— <em> plants. </em>I think I’d go stir crazy. I already do. Besides, the tailoring is what tallies most of the income, and we all know I’m no good with that stuff.”</p><p>“Well…” Zheng Xi pauses. Images of needle-picked fingers and torn fabric cross his mind. “Yes, true.”</p><p>“See?”</p><p>Jian Yi ties off the wrap and steps back as He Tian pulls on his shirt again. A comment about the bloody and ruined clothing sits on the tip of Jian Yi’s tongue, He Tian knows, but a pointed look from the latter tells him to leave it alone.</p><p>Capping the jar, Jian Yi moves about the house to put everything back in place. </p><p>“I’d rather stay with the animals than in a greenhouse,” he continues casually, tossing the cloth in a crate. “Mr. Yu treats me well, and he needs the help around his land anyway.”</p><p>Zheng Xi makes a face. “You’ll stay a farmhand forever?”</p><p>“Well,” Jian Yi shrugs. “Who knows?”</p><p>“Speaking of help,” He Tian starts, leaning back, “what happened to the woman from earlier? The widow, I should say. I halfway expected her to be here.”</p><p>The response is nothing short of predictable. Silence falls upon them, heavy, and Jian Yi pauses as he places the box back in the cabinet. Across the table, Zheng Xi gives He Tian a sharp look — but the latter only raises a brow in response.</p><p>
  <em> He’s not a child. You can’t protect him. </em>
</p><p>“She was troubled, but not… you know,” Jian Yi offers after a while. He places the box on the shelf and shuts the door with a quiet thud. “Not... shattered. After you left, her sister came to find her and she looked like she was in good hands, so. I let her be. That was that."</p><p>He Tian looks at the curve of the blond’s shoulders, lean and small in the moment. Zheng Xi shifts in his chair. </p><p>“You seem indifferent about it,” he says, careful. “Or rather…”</p><p>Jian Yi turns and gives them a small smile. </p><p>“I’m trying what you guys always tell me. Caring a little less. I mean, I couldn’t leave her at the time, but— afterwards is the important part, right? Life goes on, and I can’t bring him back for her, and I did what I could with the time that I had.” He shrugs, small. “I’m okay with that.”</p><p>There’s a pause; a suspended moment. He Tian only blinks. Wonders for a second if they'd mistakenly come to the wrong home and are talking amiably with a stranger that only resembles Jian Yi.</p><p>Then, surprisingly, Zheng Xi nods. </p><p>“I mean— yes, you’re right. I’m surprised that you…” He clears his throat, scratches behind his ear. “I’m glad. Taking on the world’s problems would've crushed you at some point.” </p><p>Another pause. But before a response can be formed, the sound of a closing door turns their heads.</p><p>“It’s incredible how easily I can recognize your voices now,” Meixiu says, grace and ease as she turns the corner with a tray bearing two empty cups and a pot that smells of tea.</p><p>As He Tian and Zheng Xi politely give their greetings, Jian Yi exhales, grateful for the interruption. </p><p>“How’s dad?” he asks, smile faint. His mother sets down the tray on an end table and pulls back her hair. </p><p>“He was nauseous, but the tea seemed to help,” she says, deft fingers weaving her hair into a braid. “I think the changing seasons are affecting him more so than usual this year. It’s odd, really.”</p><p>Finishing the plait and dropping her hands to her hips, she regards the trio with a tilt of the head. </p><p>“Have you all finished with helping the recovery process, or are you hiding away again?” she inquires, tone pointed. For a moment she reminds He Tian of Cheng, a faint memory from early years, and he huffs at the thought. Meixiu is, after all, much more of a threat than the man ever could be. </p><p>“Only a few business buildings and a stable to the east are left,” He Tian answers. “The rest will be dealt with tomorrow. Jian Yi and I plan to have an early start. And Zheng Xi…”</p><p>“I was helping with my mother’s shop,” Zheng Xi finishes for him, suddenly tired looking. “Started working as soon as the all clear was given. My mother set aside a few things for you to pick up if you have the time in the next few days.”</p><p>Meixiu smiles, sharp eyes and tight lines sanded down to something softer. Zheng Xi somehow has that effect on her, even above her own son. Jian Yi whines about it often enough. </p><p>“He doesn’t complain as much as you do,” she would tell him when he does, flicking him on the forehead. “After all these years, you would think you’d learn a thing or two from him and his sister.”</p><p>And Jian Yi would whimper as he rubbed at his wound, a small “So mean,” escaping his pout, and Meixiu would smile and ruffle his hair affectionately with a, “It’s only the truth.”</p><p>Now, Meixiu sighs. “It’s been a long day,” she laments, picking up the tray and heading to the kitchen. “And even longer, with the rumored address this evening.”</p><p>Out of her line of sight, the trio share a single, exasperated look. </p><p>After all, the addresses are nothing more than embellished, empty promises passing through the ears of a tired town. A customary event held once in a blue moon, more for the council’s sense of security than the people’s. The council members remind the people that a victorious war is often a costly one, and that they are never alone in the face of this war. The crowd, however, always leaves more silent than it came.</p><p>He Tian supposes that such gatherings are necessary for the image of Kuoda and all the other towns, though the bleak message that comes with them is never tasteful. And, as of recently, neither is the sight of He Cheng standing alongside their father with the rest of the council. </p><p><em> “I’d rather die,” </em>Jian Yi mouths, expression pained. Zheng Xi nods in agreement, and He Tian smirks. </p><p>They lapse into silence. But then, suddenly, Jian Yi’s eyes brighten. Excitement bubbling, he points across the room. They follow his gaze. Leaned against the wall: his bow. </p><p>Zheng Xi raises a brow. </p><p>The blond mimes shooting an arrow and flashes them a lopsided grin. <em> How about it? </em></p><p>“And what’s with the silence all of a sudden?” Meixiu calls around the corner, making her son jump. “I know you boys better than that. I ought to see <em> all of you </em> in the commons as soon as the address is called, understood?”</p><p>“Yes ma’am,” they respond in unison, each frightened in their own way of the woman’s more-than-capable ability to tear down a man with a single, hard look — but then go back to looking at one another.</p><p>Zheng Xi shakes his head to Jian Yi’s folded, pleading hands with a frown. <em> Bad idea, idiot.  </em></p><p>Desperate, Jian Yi looks to He Tian.</p><p>Indifferent, the latter only shrugs. <em> I don’t care. </em></p><p>Jian Yi grins with victory. He holds up a pair of wriggling fingers to Zheng Xi, lips pursed. <em> Two to one. You’re outvoted.  </em></p><p>Irked, Zheng Xi’s mouth twists.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“I cannot believe she <em> believed </em>you.”</p><p>Jian Yi laughs, light and airy, arm slung around a scowling Zheng Xi’s shoulder. They’re in the eastern side of the forest, ginkgo leaves and rain-wet soil underfoot as they trek along the dirt path. Birds’ calls echo sweetly through the trees, and there’s a slight breeze welcoming the evening as the leaves rustle overhead.  </p><p>It’s a familiar trek; a comforting stroll. One they’ve taken too many times in their lifetimes. The sun hovers just above early dusk, the sky tinted an orange hue, and light dapples their skin among the stretching shadows as they walk along. Their voices blend with the landscape, the only abnormality being the clacks of the bows and quivers strapped to their backs, and Zheng Xi kicks at a pebble as they walk.</p><p>“Don’t be <em> moody,” </em>Jian Yi chides, poking at Zheng Xi’s cheek. “We got what we wanted, didn’t we?”</p><p>“No, we got what <em>you </em>wanted by lying to your mother,” Zheng Xi corrects, slapping away his hand. “If she finds out we skipped with such a stupid lie—“</p><p>“It wasn’t stupid! A stroke of genius, actually!”</p><p>“Using my little sister as an excuse is your idea of genius?” Zheng Xi asks, a little acidly. Jian Yi wilts under the look, and He Tian can’t find it within himself to feel sorry for him. He’d known Jian Yi was treading on thin ice as soon as Zi Qian’s name escaped his mouth as he’d rambled to Meixiu on the spot.</p><p>First it was that they couldn’t find Zi Qian after she left to deliver some of her mother’s goods around town and thus had to search for her — but after realizing how improbable that excuse sounded while coming out of his own mouth, the blond quickly turned it into a narrative of how Zi Qian has been scared without her beloved big brother after the attack and wanted them to walk with her to the assembly. </p><p>It was as equally an improbable situation in He Tian’s opinion, but Meixiu had considered it for a moment before telling them that they’re free to leave and accompany the girl if she was feeling anxious — as long as Zi Qian’s story matched theirs. </p><p>“Zi Qian is <em>reliable,”</em> Jian Yi says now, bumping Zheng Xi’s shoulder. “She’ll definitely cover up for us if we ask her!”</p><p>“You know I don’t like that, Jian Yi. And even if your mother doesn’t know better, that doesn’t mean you should take adva—”</p><p>“She knows,” He Tian interjects, decidedly. “That woman is far from stupid. And Jian Yi is a terrible liar. Though, I don’t think she cared either way.”</p><p>“Exactly!” Jian Yi agrees, expression a little sour from the slight but otherwise ignored. “All’s well that ends well, and we didn’t have to sit through an hour long lecture. Here, look, if you wished to attend it so <em> badly, </em>Xixi—“</p><p>Jian Yi hops ahead of the group, walking backwards and puffing out his chest. Already, Zheng Xi is rolling his eyes. </p><p><em> “And we,” </em> Jian Yi recites with a deep-rolling, throaty gusto, hands propped on his hips, <em> “the </em>resilient<em> people of Kuoda, should be certain that our future holds great hope and responsibility for this war’s end. We can find support not only in one another, but also—“ </em></p><p>
  <em> “—the towns and villages that are both friends—“  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “—and honorable allies during these trying times.” </em>
</p><p>A grin expands on Jian Yi’s lips at his friends’ stone-faced and tired contributions. <em> “Remember,” </em>he continues, and raises his palms as though conducting a choir, a finale well-known:</p><p><em> “Keep looking forward,” </em>the three say in concurrence — and Jian Yi bursts out laughing, stumbling over his feet, grinning goofy. Joining the tread of the group once more, he leans forward. </p><p>“See? We practically have an address of our own out here,” he assures them. </p><p>Zheng Xi rolls his eyes. “Sure. Just don’t let She Li see you making a joke out of his father like that.”</p><p>The council’s main spokesman. A formidable and aging man as dead-eyed as his son, but well-spoken and reliable. Curling into himself, Jian Yi shivers.</p><p>“Bloody stars. He’d gut me. That whole family gives me the creeps.” He turns to He Tian, promptly curious. “What does Cheng think of them?”</p><p>He Tian gives him a look. “Why Cheng?”</p><p>“Well, he spends the most time with them since he’s joined the council, doesn’t he?”</p><p>He Tian looks elsewhere. Says, low, “I try to avoid such conversations with him.”</p><p>A discussion ended before it could even begin. But before Jian Yi can become deflated by the cold dismissal, Zheng Xi speaks up.</p><p>“Enough of that. We’re here.”</p><p>The sound of bubbling water, once distant, has since become clear and abundant. True to Zheng Xi’s word, the reflected glint of the sun’s last light sparkles from between the trees as they step into the clearing, the rock-ridden bedside. Fallen leaves float in the stream’s wide current, getting caught on protruding rocks before being urged downstream once more, and the patches of foliage peeking through the surrounding, rocky terrain stretch towards the water as if in yearning. </p><p>Jian Yi is quick to slipping off his boots, satchel thrown to the ground, rolling up the ends of his pants. The red-orange sky reflects onto his pale skin as he trots forward and dips in a toe to test the stream's warmth. </p><p>“It’s not that bad, actually!” he exclaims in joy, plunging both feet in with a splash. He wriggles his toes among the pebbles and smiles. “I thought it’d be numbing, but it’s not bad!”</p><p>“Yes, well,” Zheng Xi sighs, slinging his bow and quiver onto the bank and settles next to it. He Tian joins him, legs stretched out far enough for the heels of his shoes to reach the water’s edge. “I’d rather stay here for a bit.”</p><p>Jian Yi shrugs. Pulls out his weapon with familiar ease. “Whatever suits you. More for me, then.”</p><p>“Right,” Zheng Xi says, unimpressed, as Jian Yi wades further into the stream’s current. Watching the blond wander around for a bit, staring intensely into the waters for a target to appear, Zheng Xi sighs. “He won’t find anything. We’re too close to winter.”</p><p>“I’ve learned not to argue his determination,” He Tian replies and Zheng Xi huffs, unable to dispute it. </p><p>After all, in all aspects, Jian Yi’s form and execution always nears perfection. Even now, He Tian can see the adeptness of Jian Yi’s person: balanced on moss-slick rocks but steady on his feet, pale eyes scanning the currents with intense concentration, bow held securely in hand. The man’s quirks are incredible, but his natural ability to pick up skills is even more so. It’s the one sufficiency in his personality that He Tian can defend.</p><p>They stay in silence for a while, worn from the recent events. Watching Jian Yi hop and stretch in the stream is akin to bird watching, and He Tian and Zheng Xi observe with quiet neutrality. It would be a lie to say they don't get exhausted from the blond's energy sometimes, but down moments like these are offered in fair amounts to make them stick around. To endure.</p><p>Minutes later, Zheng Xi shifts and pulls a leg to his chest. A small fidget, unconscious. He Tian thinks nothing of it, mind drifting with the trees, until:</p><p>“I feel like coming here was a mistake.”</p><p>The words are spoken low, meant only for He Tian’s ears. After a moment, He Tian turns to Zheng Xi. The latter’s eyes don’t leave Jian Yi, expression neutral, but there’s a telling shadow on his features that He Tian has come to recognize over the years.</p><p>“Because of the address?”</p><p>Zheng Xi shakes his head. “No. Well, yes, actually, if you want to think of it that way, but…” A heavy pause, then Zheng Xi swallows. “I don’t want you to think I’m paranoid.”</p><p><em> Hear me out. </em>He Tian nods. “Okay.”</p><p>Hesitation follows. But then, after a war of consideration, Zheng Xi wets his lips. “I feel as though he’s running away.”</p><p>The words are sure and rehearsed; as if they'd been settled on his tongue, waiting to come out. He Tian looks up. Jian Yi has spotted something further downstream, bow raised as he tracks the shadow in the water. His long hair is wind-mussed, a faint smile gracing his lips, his pants damp at the ends, and He Tian isn’t quite sure what Zheng Xi means. </p><p>“Running away,” He Tian echoes. “As in, from Kuoda?”</p><p>“No, not literally,” Zheng Xi sighs, running his palms down the front of his pants. “I’m not sure how to explain it. The way he’s been talking recently hasn’t been… him. And his impulses are odd. Odder, I mean. It’s not necessarily bad, but it’s... different.”</p><p>“Ah,” says He Tian, recalling the widow. “You mean what he said in the house.”</p><p>Zheng Xi nods, shoulders curving as if He Tian had just lifted a weight from him. “Yes, exactly. That, and many other moments that you weren’t there for. I just— He’s not the type to <em>dismiss </em>a woman who sobs on his shoulder. And he’s not the type to lie about it, either. I know we’ve told him it’s unhealthy, but this sudden of a change is a bit...”</p><p>He trails off.</p><p>He Tian ventures, “You think he lied about what he said?”</p><p>“He’s never spoken like that before.” Zheng Xi looks at him. “What else could it have been?”</p><p>He Tian pauses. Considers it.</p><p>“You should ask him," he says after a second. "You’re the only one who could.”</p><p>An exhale, long and drawn. Zheng Xi tosses a pebble, lackluster, and they watch it bounce into the stream’s current. The sun has begun to set, and Jian Yi is further downstream. Carefree and oblivious.</p><p>“Then why,” Zheng Xi says finally, voice a bit rough, a bit too tame, “do I feel as though he wouldn’t tell me the truth even if I were to ask him?”</p><p>He Tian studies him from the corner of his eye. Notes the creased lines in his forehead and the deep pull at the edges of his mouth. Zheng Xi’s older than he should be, quieter than most. A big brother to a doting sister and a son of a lonesome mother. It’s how anyone would have expected him to turn out, and nothing how Jian Yi wants him to feel.</p><p>And He Tian has found the silent studying and the unreadable, poker-faced expressions abnormal on more than one occasion — but this is different from what he’s seen before. More real, and more open. Everything that Jian Yi drags from him.</p><p>But he doesn’t get to inquire about the situation any further, because there’s a distant yell of frustration that has them both looking up. </p><p>“Jian Yi!” Zheng Xi calls to the blond, who angrily snatches up an arrow from where he’d shot it in the water without luck. “Come back already and let that one go!”</p><p>“I’d rather <em> die, </em> Xixi!” Jian Yi yells back, stomping down the stream after his evasive target. Zheng Xi clicks his tongue.</p><p>“At least his stubbornness is the same,” he mutters. </p><p>“Brother!”</p><p>They turn at the voice. Approaching is Zi Qian, eyes wide and bright, a blanket held snugly around her shoulders as she jogs to them. She leaps onto Zheng Xi’s back, wrapping her arms around his neck as she smiles warmly at He Tian in greeting, and Zheng Xi winces at the sudden impact. </p><p>“What are you doing here?” he asks, struggling to turn and look at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be with mom at the address?”</p><p>“I was, but then she told me to come find you,” she says, a devilish look in her eye. “Miss Jian told her that you guys skipped. You’re going to be in <em> trouble.”</em></p><p>Zheng Xi glances to He Tian, but the latter only gives him a look that says, <em>Are we surprised?</em></p><p>“And you won’t?” Zheng Xi asks his sister, finally unhooking her arms. “You’re skipping now, too.”</p><p>“Yes, but with <em>permission.</em> Jian Yi’s even more dead.” She looks around, confused, then asks, “Where is he?”</p><p>He Tian points at the puff of blond in the distance. “Chasing down fish.”</p><p>Zi Qian tilts her head, peering at the horizon. “With arrows? Wouldn’t it be better to use a fishing rod? Or a blade?”</p><p>Tired, Zheng Xi sighs. “That’s what I tell him. But he likes the 'thrill' of the arrows better, apparently.”</p><p>Zi Qian laughs, a fluttery and warm thing. “He’s <em> odd. </em> But, oh well.” She stands, tugging at Zheng Xi’s shirt. “Come on, brother. Mom says we don’t have to go to the address, but she wants us home before sundown.”</p><p>Frowning, Zheng Xi asks, “Why?”</p><p>“She’s worried since we’ve just been attacked,” Zi Qian says, quieter. “She’d feel better having us home tonight, together.” Her mouth plumps in a pout, and her eyes soften just right. “I would, too.”</p><p>A final blow. Amazing how it works, really. The words are just enough to scrape away the top layer of her brother’s obstinance, and it’s visible. Zheng Xi pauses, a counter on his tongue, but a glance at his sister’s pleading face ultimately makes the decision for him. With a sigh, he gives in. </p><p>Standing and brushing off his pants, Zheng Xi picks up his bow — then stops to peer at Jian Yi’s distant figure. “Should I…?”</p><p>“No,” He Tian says, waving him off. “He’s too far away. I’ll tell him you left when he comes back.”</p><p>“Sorry." Then: "Don’t let him chase that thing forever.” </p><p>Flatly, “My patience only lasts until sunset.”</p><p>A nod.</p><p>“Come on, Zixi,” Zheng Xi succumbs, holding out a hand that Zi Qian happily takes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, He Tian.”</p><p>“Bye, He Tian!”</p><p>He Tian nods. Turning back to the stream, he listens as the footsteps and chatter fade away. There’s a slight breeze that carries a certain chill in it now, refreshing against his skin. The absence of company is more freeing than he’d thought it’d be. Peaceful. Decompressed.</p><p>He leans back; feels his scalp rest against the flat of stones. The weight of the day presses down on his tired body as he watches the trees sway above, their silhouettes darkening against the blooming sky. He listens to the trickle of water. The whistle of birds. He thinks of Zheng Xi. </p><p>
  <em> I feel as though he’s running away. </em>
</p><p>He Tian exhales, and closes his eyes. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The cold wakes him with a startle. </p><p>It’s disorientating at first. The world stays dark even after he opens his eyes, lids fluttering. His limbs are stiff, cold skin pressed against his clothes. He can’t make sense of the situation for a few moments, sitting up in the rocks and blinking away a dreary tug in his eyes. His breath is shaken as a cold wind pushes against him, and he grits his teeth as his eyes adjust to the night. </p><p>It all comes back to him at once. He'd drifted off too easily, exhaustion pulling at his bones. He’s still only feet from the stream’s edge, though the moonlight and its stars have long since replaced the sun’s rays. </p><p>He Tian breathes a curse, pressing a hand on his thigh to stand and return home — then pauses. There, abandoned on the bank, are Jian Yi’s boots and satchel. </p><p>He Tian can only look at them at first, mind fogged with sleep. Standing, he walks to the belongings and picks them up. As if in a trance, he looks downstream to where Jian Yi had been wandering earlier, the night proving to be an obstruction to sight. The rocks glimmer with wetness, the ripples of water catching the silver streak of the stars — but no Jian Yi in sight. </p><p><em> Did he drown? </em>is He Tian’s first thought, unable to put the ridiculous conjecture past the blond’s antics — but he quickly dismisses it. Jian Yi has spent half his life at the water’s edge; he can tell a slippery, moss-slick stone from a safe one twenty meters away. If anything, he must have gone home when the sun disappeared. </p><p>“But he would’ve returned for his shoes,” He Tian breathes, tucking the worn boots into the bag. He slings the strap over his shoulder, returning for his own bow, then goes to the stream’s edge once more. Inhales. </p><p>“Jian Yi!” he calls downwind, voice shattering the quiet of the night, loud to his own ears. </p><p>He waits. No response comes. </p><p>Jaw working, he considers his options. Realizes that, really, he only has one. Jian Yi would sooner crack his head open on the forest floor faster than Zheng Xi would do it himself if they came to find out that the blond had decided to spend the cold, fall night in the woods on a whim. Either way, He Tian won’t sleep well tonight. Not unless he makes an effort.</p><p>His feet drag, tired, as he walks next to the stream for its added reflection of light. He assumes — prays — that Jian Yi would’ve had enough sense to have done the same. Still, He Tian's eyes spend equal parts glancing into the forest’s edge and into the dark waters, halfway expecting to see a dark figure slumped face-down in either scenario. Bloody stars. Jian Yi will owe him.</p><p>He cups his hands around his mouth.</p><p>“Jian Yi!” </p><p>His voice echoes back to him; no response. For a moment, feet kicking aside a rock, He Tian wonders if Jian Yi actually did it. Ran off. Escaped without looking back, the opportunity just right, the situation too odd to be explained by anything else, foretold by Zheng Xi’s watchful and sympathetic gaze. Perhaps the man smuggled a horse from Yu and took off on the last boat out of Rukou, lungs filled with salty air and cold winds, bare feet pressed against the deck of the bow, eyes closed against the horizon as he made his fateful flee from a life he could never truly enjoy. </p><p>Except, He Tian knows, that wouldn’t happen. At least not like that. The only way Jian Yi would ever disappear is if Zheng Xi disappeared with him. He Tian would accept it without question if he woke one morning and was told the two hadn’t been seen for some time. The two move together in an inseparable pair, as if their skins were stitched together at birth, and He Tian has had to turn a blind eye on more than one occasion when it became too painfully and particularly <em>obvious. </em></p><p>He shakes his head. If nothing else, he can be certain that Zheng Xi will scold Jian Yi enough tomorrow to compensate for He Tian’s bitterness now. But until then, he'll walk to the curve of the stream; only a little further ahead. If the blond doesn’t show his face by then, the wolves can have him. </p><p>“Jian Y—!”</p><p>There’s a shuffle within the forest, concealed in the darkness, and He Tian freezes. The snap of twigs; a sudden susurrus in the leaves. Too loud then too <em>quiet</em> for it to have been an animal.</p><p>He Tian turns — cranes his neck — but sees nothing. </p><p>“Jian Yi.”</p><p>No response.</p><p>“Jian Yi,” he says again to the trees, voice hard and clipped. “I’m not in the mood to play games. Come out.”</p><p>Silence greets him. Jaw tight, He Tian starts toward the sound's source.</p><p>“You’ve become more daring if you think I won’t lay a hand on you just because Zhan Zheng Xi is...”</p><p>He stops cold in his tracks.</p><p>Drops of blood, glinting in the night, dark maroon patches against the leaves and rocks. It's fresh, and <em>plentiful, </em>and He Tian stares at it before looking up. The trail, to his horror, continues. It smears on the ground, as if something had been dragged — and even further, something hangs from a branch of a tree, drifting with the wind. A piece of cloth. </p><p>Dread sinks in before rationality. Thoughts run wild. It could be the remnants something Jian Yi caught, or something he found, or just a natural happenstance within the woods. But He Tian knows false realities when he sees one, and he follows the trail, picking up his pace with every step, vexation replaced by something more urgent.</p><p>It’s only when he’s closer does he see the abandoned bow and quiver on the ground, hidden in the leaves. It lies beneath the strip of cloth, of which He Tian pulls from the low hanging branch. But his hand comes away damp, and he realizes with a hollow feeling that the fabric's soaked through with blood — black liquid sticky on his fingers and staining Meixiu’s stitched design. </p><p>He Tian swallows. Tosses the cloth aside, abandoning it for the weapon at his feet. Blind in the dark, assisted only by the silver fluorescence filtering through the canopy, he finds what he expects: engraved in the upper limb of the weapon, a J.Y. initial. </p><p>“Bloody stars,” He Tian says, throat tight. </p><p>He looks up the tree but finds nothing. Wasn't, really, expecting to. But the man couldn’t have made it much farther than here; the blood flow's too heavy to allow for any notable movement, much less a trek through the woods. If Jian Yi only made it halfway back to town, tripping over roots and stones, blinded by the dark and pain...</p><p>He Tian’s fingers wrap around the bow’s grip, fingers sinking into the worn grooves. Never before has he wished Jian Yi had made a successful catch big enough to brag about — to drag home and leave a pool of blood this <em>brutal.</em> He Tian starts forward, moving around the tree, hoping that Jian Yi took a straight shot back to town, or maybe left a trail to follow—</p><p>A shuffle.</p><p>He Tian's body moves before he can process it. </p><p>He whips around like snapped wire — and in an instant an arrow is already set between his fingers, sitting pretty on the serving of Jian Yi’s bow, string drawn back to his ear, looking down his nose at company he hadn’t been aware of until now. </p><p>But now, he sees it. </p><p>The glowing amber is what makes his fingers hesitate — something between shock and confusion paralysing the release of a fatal arrow. It’s bright in the forest’s midnight, and He Tian’s eyes squint against it, stunned. The intense color comes in two small, oval-shaped figures, seemingly floating above the ground — but they illuminate what’s around them, and after a moment He Tian can make out the head they belong to. The figure. The body.</p><p>A person. </p><p>They sit on the opposite side of the tree’s trunk where He Tian hadn’t been able to see them before, slumped back against the bark. Their body is halfway curled into itself on the ground, shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths they no longer try to hide. Their clothes seem dark and wet, some of it torn, and their state disheveled and vulnerable under his gaze.</p><p>But He Tian doesn’t really see any of it. Doesn’t really process it. Because, looking back at him, watching him, <em> daring him — </em>are a set of glowing amber eyes. </p><p>Fingers tighten around the bow.</p><p>“Who are you?” He Tian says, tone sharp and sudden enough to make the person — the man — jump. </p><p>But the man doesn’t respond. Eyes adjusted, He Tian can almost clearly see his face now. Dirtied and bloodied, long and angled. The bridge of his nose leads to a severe shadow in his scowling brows, and his short-cut hair carries a dark tint from the blood matting the curls. </p><p>But there’s more than that; more than what He Tian can ignore, and his gaze wanders despite himself, despite knowing the distraction puts him at risk. But he can’t help it. Can’t <em>understand</em> it, because the man’s ears are long, coming to a subtle point that sticks out, rose red from the cold, and something sharp and <em>broad</em> is curling out of his hair and facing outwards, and his mouth is halfway open, drawing in shallow breaths, and the glint of those bright eyes against his teeth is unmistakable because the glow of the light reflects off of canines that are incredibly— unnaturally— <em> horrifyingly so— </em></p><p>“Who are you?” He Tian demands again, louder, taking half a step forward. The aim of his arrow never falters, and neither does the man’s smoldering glare. “What are you doing here? What’s your business?”</p><p>Silence greets him. Narrowed, sharp eyes watch him.</p><p>Determined, He Tian takes a different approach. </p><p>“Jian Yi. The owner of this bow. A blond, tall man, he was by himsel—”</p><p><em> “</em>Go fuck yourself.”</p><p>The voice is low but cutting, a dark yet weak thing that chills the air. The man’s mouth barely moves with the words. He Tian scowls, fingers clenching around the bow’s grip.</p><p>“You will answer me,” he warns, dry. “I’ve no qualms with killing you.”</p><p>“I owe you <em> horseshit,” </em> the man spits, breathing labored. “You’d be better off shootin’ me. Save our fuckin’ breaths.”</p><p>“You tempt me,” He Tian mutters, and his fingers tremble against the string. He can already feel it slipping past like a dull blade against his fingertips, can already hear the satisfying, dull thud of metal piercing through bone. Something in those glowing eyes tells him the other man can feel it, too.</p><p>But he doesn't get the chance to make it a reality. There’s a crashing noise — a hurtling, panicked, <em> rushed </em>noise of snapping branches and kicked leaves beelined towards them, and He Tian’s head turns as frantic movement catches the corner of his eye. A pale figure.</p><p>“He Tian, <em>stop!”</em></p><p>Jian Yi is sprinting from the trees, tripping over his feet, eyes blown wide and fearful. He Tian hardly has time to react — to breathe — before Jian Yi is slamming into him, grabbing at him in a frenzy, wrestling the bow out of his hands and throwing it to the ground haphazardly, out of reach. </p><p>And He Tian stares at him for a moment, like seeing a ghost. There’s no visible wounds on the man; no trace of the blood that paints the ground around them. Jian Yi glares up at him and He Tian realizes: he’s fine. </p><p>But relief quickly gives way to flooding anger, hand aching from where Jian Yi had just manhandled him, and He Tian snaps out of it and seethes, “What the <em>fuck—”</em></p><p><em> “Don’t!” </em> Jian Yi snaps, voice strained. “You’ve no idea what you’re doing! You— you almost <em> killed </em>him!”</p><p>He Tian regards him in bewilderment. “I thought he killed <em> you.” </em></p><p>“What?” Jian Yi demands. “He’s <em>hurt,</em> how could he have possibly done anything, you <em>idiot!”</em></p><p>He Tian reels. “He was <em> hiding </em>from—”</p><p>“How could you just—!”</p><p><em> “—eyes </em> are fucking glowing, Jian—!”</p><p>“—nd you don’t <em> understand—” </em></p><p>“I—”</p><p>“—you—!”</p><p><em> “Enough!” </em>He Tian barks.</p><p>The word reverberates against the trees; the world goes silent against his voice. Jian Yi draws back, eyes wide. </p><p>Blood hot, He Tian steps forward. Growls: “You have ten seconds to explain what the fuck is happening here, and if not I won’t hesitate to—”</p><p>“He’s a shifter!” Jian Yi cries.</p><p>Gravity surges, and He Tian’s stomach drops like a stone. </p><p>“He’s a <em>shifter,”</em> Jian Yi says again like a prayer, voice rough and wavering and <em>desperate.</em> “He’s been hurt and he’s <em>bleeding out, </em>He Tian, and his leg is already infected so I need to help him before it gets worse because he’s so weak and he’s finally awake after all this time and I— but you’re— I can’t <em>do </em>that when there’s an <em>arrow </em>pointed at his head, asshole!”</p><p>It’s like whiplash. Too fast, and too severe. Too <em>unreal.</em> He Tian can only stare at him, searching his face, looking for anything that says the blond hasn’t completely fucking lost it. But there’s nothing except pain and desperation, running off his tongue in a panicked but candid blurt, and He Tian can only <em> stare.  </em></p><p>“Jian Yi,” he says after a moment, callus and throaty, but Jian Yi shakes his head. </p><p>“No,” he croaks. “No, you don’t get to <em> say </em>anything, He Tian. He’s badly hurt, just like the rest of us—”</p><p>“His kind <em>killed</em> three of our people yesterday, Jian Yi,” He Tian snaps.</p><p>Something shifts in Jian Yi’s eyes. Guilt, perhaps, or something close to it. It’s the closest thing to sensibility that He Tian thinks he’ll find in him now.</p><p>But then, cautious, Jian Yi blurts, “I'm aware, I <em> am, </em> but he’s far too injured right now and he told me he can’t shift into— into his other form even if he wishes, so he can’t pose a thr—”</p><p>“He is a <em> liar, </em>you idiot,” He Tian snaps. “He’s a <em> shifter. </em>I always knew you to be gullible, but not to this degree.”</p><p>Suddenly, the man — the shifter — leans forward, hand wrapped around his stomach, afire eyes severe toward He Tian.</p><p>“If I was lyin’, you’d be dead by now,” he growls.</p><p>“But that’s not how it was about to end, was it?” He Tian shoots back, dark.</p><p>The shifter flares, looking as if ready to spring upright. “You are <em> lucky </em>to be alive, you pompous son of a <em>bitch.”</em></p><p>Jian Yi grabs He Tian’s wrist before he can react — urging him to refrain — and regards the shifter with a hard look. </p><p>“You’re in the most ill-fitting position to pick a fight right now, asshole,” he seethes, though his voice carries a note of fear that’s palpable. “How am I supposed to help you if he puts an arrow through your skull the moment I turn my back?”</p><p>“I’ll do it right in front of your eyes if you’d prefer,” He Tian promises, holding the shifter’s glare even as Jian Yi shoves at him, aghast. </p><p>“You asked me what was going on and I <em>told </em>you," he barks, stern. "I told you the truth so don’t be like this, He Tian. For once, just don’t <em>be</em> like this!”</p><p>He Tian turns his gaze on him, cold. “I’m being <em> sensical, </em> Jian Yi. Something you’ve seemed to have lost.”</p><p>“I—“</p><p>“Tell me something,” He Tian cuts him off, stepping forward. “You play doctor for this shifter, let it go free back to wherever it came from, and get what in return? What do you gain from shoving your damn nose where it shouldn't be?"</p><p>
  <em>“Nothing.”</em>
</p><p>The candid answer startles him, if only minutely. Jian Yi is standing between the two, having released He Tian, bare and bloodied feet set in a defensive stance. There’s a pull between his eyes and his shoulders shake with every breath in — but he meets He Tian’s eyes with a cavernous look that is almost chilling. Almost wrong.</p><p>
  <em> I feel as though he's running away. </em>
</p><p>He Tian understands, now.</p><p>“I get absolutely nothing,” Jian Yi says, quiet. “And if he heals and goes home and ends up blowing the— the damn <em>roof</em> off my home during the next raid, so be it. I don’t <em>care.</em> Helping him now is one less death I’m responsible for.”</p><p>Understanding comes silently but unwelcome, like a mosquito’s bite in the evenings. He Tian presses his tongue to his teeth, points to the figure on the ground, and says, “That shifter is not me, Jian Yi. It’s not Zhan Zheng Xi, or Zi Qian, or your parents. It’s not the woman from this morning. You’ve no <em> responsibility </em> towards it. In fact you’re putting <em> more </em> people at risk by doing this, all for the sake of your good fucking conscience.”</p><p>“Then that’s my choice.” </p><p>Jian Yi swallows, voice thick. </p><p>“My good-for-nothing conscience,” he says. “The choice, and the consequences, are mine. They don’t have to be yours, too.”</p><p>Silence cracks between them, electric. But He Tian doesn’t get to respond. There’s a thud — a heavy breath released from the impact — and the two men turn to the shifter. He lies on the ground, pressed against the tree, body paled and limp and lifeless. </p><p><em> “Shit,” </em> Jian Yi hisses, dropping to the shifter’s side. He rolls him on his side, checks for breathing under his nose, touches the back of his hand to his forehead. “The poison,” he mutters, frantically finding the bloodied cloth He Tian discarded earlier on the ground, futility shaking it of dirt and pressing it against the apparent wound in the shifter’s thigh. “Such a high dose, I don’t think I’ve… perhaps sage would...”</p><p>Suddenly, the cloth is thrown at He Tian’s face. He catches it just as Jian Yi turns to him. </p><p>“Go wet it in the stream,” Jian Yi tells him, expression severe. “Try to wash out as much blood as possible, use the rocks to scrub it if you must, and then in my satchel there should be—”</p><p>“Jian Yi—”</p><p>“I’m not <em> asking you </em> anymore!” Jian Yi snaps. “I’m done trying! We don’t have <em> time. </em>Do you see all this blood? I was already afraid to leave him alone when I was going to get mum’s stuff and then I heard you yelling my name like a <em>crazy person</em> and I had to—!” </p><p>He inhales, sharp. As if he caught himself in some act.</p><p>Jian Yi collects himself, and after a moment, starts again.</p><p>“This is the last favor you’ll have to do for me,” he says, tight. “I swear. By the time you return, I’ll be back with some things to stop the bleeding and control the poison and you won’t have to do a thing except wash that cloth and hand me my bag and you’ll never see him again. Just… please, He Tian.”</p><p>His voice is hoarse by the end of it, a plea that reaches his eyes, and a single realization comes to He Tian like a splash of cold water: he wishes Zheng Xi was here.</p><p>To deal with this delusion. To react in solution-bearing ways that He Tian cannot. To make sense of this, and Jian Yi’s thoughts, and the situation’s inevitable outcome. Zhan Zheng Xi is a foundation that doesn’t shake, and He Tian has only just begun to understand why Jian Yi has depended on him for so many years. </p><p>But he’s not here. Not now. </p><p>Balling the cloth in his hand, He Tian wets his lips. Finds his decision.</p><p>He takes Jian Yi’s satchel from around his shoulders and tosses it to its owner. </p><p>“Put on your shoes,” he says, looking at the cuts on Jian Yi’s feet. “After we wrap him, we wrap you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>a long introductory chapter — I am <i>so</i> sorry! future chapters will be shorter and easier to swallow, I promise! (if you made it through this, I absolutely love you to death.)</p><p>until then, I hope you enjoy this AU. it has been trapped in my brain for well over a year now, and I’ve finally found the courage to plan it all out and put it to paper. feedback would mean the world to me, either via comments/kudos or on my <a href="https://nightfayre.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>!</p><p>thank you so much for reading, and please stay safe &amp; healthy!</p><p><b>EDIT 12/5/20:</b> once again, if you haven't already, take a look at this <a href="https://guanishani.tumblr.com/post/619971993614401536/he-wakes-on-the-ground-its-a-tired-and-sluggish">BEAUTIFUL fanart</a> by @guanishani! thank you so much for your support from the very bottom of my heart!! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. tempest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>EDIT 12/5/20:</b> yet another <i>gorgeous</i> fanart for this chapter (<a href="https://littlemountainblue.tumblr.com/post/635967612782854144/part-1-i-made-this-based-on-the-wonderful">pt1</a> - <a href="https://littlemountainblue.tumblr.com/post/635967626976378880/part-2-i-made-this-based-on-the-wonderful-fanfic">pt2</a> - <a href="https://littlemountainblue.tumblr.com/post/635967642062241792/part-3-i-made-this-based-on-the-wonderful-fanfic">pt3</a>) by the talented and amazing @littlemountainblue! I would suggest waiting to view this beautiful art until after you've read the chapter (I'll provide the links again in the second author's note) but nonetheless, please enjoy! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ow, I— Ow, <em> ow!” </em></p><p>“Quiet,” He Tian warns, plucking yet another bloody splinter from the heel of Jian Yi’s foot. A pile of the stuff has begun steadily growing beside them, and He Tian grimaces with his work. Though his patient squirms with pain, the blond’s shin is pinned down with one hand while the other clears away dirt from cuts and pulls thorns from his skin, lacking in sympathy. Helpless, Jian Yi yelps as another splinter is yanked away.</p><p>“Couldn’t you be a little more gentle?” he pleads.</p><p>“Couldn’t you have done this yourself?” He Tian snaps. </p><p>Jian Yi shuts his mouth after that, sheepish, and they both work in silence.</p><p>They’ve managed a crude set-up among the trees: Jian Yi settled on the ground, the latter half of the shifter’s limp body laid across his outstretched legs, He Tian sitting with Jian Yi’s bare feet on his knees, and a flickering lantern illuminating their surroundings. They’ve swept aside the leaves and rocks stained with blood — disposing of most of it in the stream just to be sure — and their weapons are propped against a tree, untouched but within reach. </p><p>“I’m not taking chances,” He Tian had said, cold, when Jian Yi suggested bringing their bows back home to reduce clutter. Under that hard gaze, the blond had little choice but to surrender, rushing back to town to get what he needed before He Tian's patience wore thin. </p><p>But, true to his word, Jian Yi had returned with both a light and his mother’s emergency supplies by the time He Tian had finished wringing the cloth of bloodied water. Before anything else, they’d cleaned up the area to the best of their ability — they have to avoid any further risks if they can help it — then stared at the lifeless shifter, a common feeling of <em>what now? </em>heavy in the silence. After some consideration, Jian Yi had deemed it too risky to move the creature before he could properly treat it and, in the meantime, convinced He Tian to help kill two birds with one stone.</p><p>Now, as He Tian wraps the arch of Jian Yi’s foot, Jian Yi leans down to bite off the thread holding together the skin of the shifter’s thigh. His fingers are bloody from the stitching, staining beneath his nails, but He Tian knows Jian Yi has seen worse. Treated worse. Mostly on himself, reckless idiot he often is, but also on the poor souls who come to his mother for help when other physicians prove too expensive or too inaccessible. And Meixiu, tough but caring woman she often is, would sooner burn down their house before she turned someone in need away. Obviously, such a trait has been passed down the bloodline, and now they're paying the price in the woods at the dead of night. </p><p>“Bandages?” Jian Yi asks now, holding out a hand. He Tian stops his work, glancing up at him. </p><p>“There’s less than half of the roll left,” he tells him somewhat dryly. “I haven’t even started your other foot.”</p><p>“I don’t mind. My socks should be enough protection until I get home, and his wounds need it more than mine do.” A wriggle of fingers, impatient. </p><p>Exhaustion has never felt more prominent. He Tian looks at him — can feel the frigid rancor in his own gaze — before leaning down to tear off the bandage and place the rest in Jian Yi’s waiting palm.</p><p>“Thank you,” the latter singsongs, quickly getting to bandaging the shifter’s leg. </p><p>He Tian watches him work, jaw tight enough to be sore. A headache has slowly built to a crescendo within the last hour, pulling at his temples, a combination of fatigue and tension and frustration poking at his seams. Jian Yi, on the other hand, has been nothing but stark determination and concentration; a rare but steadfast state, encouraged by urgency. He's quieter than normal, perhaps, but only when he catches a glimpse of He Tian’s expression and is reminded of how <em> unprecedented </em>this entire situation is. How delusive.</p><p>And yet curiosity is a prickled and damned thing, demanding to be felt. He Tian has gone long enough avoiding their new reality where he could, picking battles he has not yet lost. But now, somewhere between disdain and aversion, He Tian looks at the shifter. </p><p>The thing — <em> man? </em>— hasn’t moved since blacking out. Its body surrendered like a ragdoll to Jian Yi’s careful handling, lolled head propped on Jian Yi’s satchel with a quiet groan. And its face isn’t peaceful; isn’t relaxed and drifting like one should be when sleeping. Instead its brows are drawn tight, pink lips slightly agape, shadows lying sharp and severe on its paled, sweat-damp face. Its hair, as it turns out, isn’t dark but rather an iron-rusted red, accentuated by the blood that had leaked from a cut on its temple that Jian Yi has since cleaned up. </p><p>“Strange,” Jian Yi had murmured while he’d done it, voice quiet and vague as he dabbed the wet cloth against the cut as if he, too, was seeing the shifter for the first time, different within the glow of the lantern. “I’ve never seen anyone like him.”</p><p>And He Tian hadn’t responded at the time — too tired, too pissed off, too <em> tense </em> as he waited for the creature to wake from the dead and jump to its feet and execute what He Tian should’ve done. </p><p>But the shifter didn’t, and Jian Yi worked diligently, and now He Tian is staring at its unconscious face, wanting to run a finger down the notches and curves in its horns. To look closer at the inhuman length of its ears and the sharpness of its teeth too large for its mouth. Wondering, briefly, if it would be alarm or awe to paralyze him if those amber eyes suddenly slipped open and stared back at him, different without a drawn weapon between them. </p><p>He Tian looks away.</p><p>“Jian Yi,” he says, watching as the other sifts through his supplies, having finished wrapping the creature’s thigh. “You owe me some answers.”</p><p>There’s a wince; He Tian raises a brow. The blond had done well enough to avoid critical questions until now, using the shifter’s poor state as an excuse to stay focused. Frustrated, He Tian hadn’t known where to start, either. But he’s since collected his thoughts — his convictions — and now, cornered, He Tian sees the fearful hesitation in Jian Yi’s search of supplies. </p><p>After a moment, the blond reaches for a small container of a blue-green salve and uncaps it, tongue in cheek. </p><p>“I know,” he says, avoiding eye contact, “but first, promise me something.”</p><p>“Is my help not payment enough?” He Tian replies, dry. </p><p>Immediately, Jian Yi flusters, hand waving. “No no, it <em> is </em>and I’m grateful, honestly, but…”</p><p>His words wander, lost. He Tian waits. Nervous and quiet, Jian Yi uses the moment to scoop out a dollop of the cream and lift the shifter’s arm, spreading it gently across the blisters and burns He Tian hadn’t seen until now. The forearm’s skin is an angry red, peeling grotesquely, and the catch in the creature’s breath at Jian Yi’s touch is a quiet but pained thing. At the sound, He Tian forces the bolt of tension that stiffens his shoulders to subside.</p><p>“He won’t wake?” He Tian had asked earlier when Jian Yi started stitching the shifter’s leg wound. Lips pressed, the latter had shaken his head with confidence.</p><p>“No. He passed out the moment I saw him, and it took nearly an hour to get any kind of response again." Then he paused and said, "I really thought he was dead.”</p><p>He Tian hadn’t known what to think of that. Still doesn’t. After all, if he’d woken just half an hour earlier — or hadn’t fallen asleep at all, lulled by the evening’s approach — what would have become of the shifter? Would Jian Yi still have found it? Would it have died, corpse buried under fresh snow, only to be found weeks later by a passing trader? Would He Tian have come across it while chasing down Jian Yi’s stubborn character and put an arrow through its head before they’d had the chance to exchange unpleasant pleasantries? </p><p>Regret is powerful; its aftermath a burning sting. But he's not quite sure if the sunken feeling in his chest can be called regret — though, somehow, he knows it ought to be. Fundamentally, something has fallen out of tune; a sour note in his conscience, persistently ringing every time he looks at the creature sprawled across Jian Yi's legs. The sight sits heavy on his tongue, bitter to the taste.</p><p>But he doesn’t ponder it much longer. Now, shaky, Jian Yi exhales. </p><p>“No matter what happens, I... don’t want others to know,” he says, quiet. There’s an edge to his voice that’s uncertain and <em>real,</em> and He Tian’s not quite sure if he knows how to face it. He tries anyway.</p><p>“Even if it dies?” He Tian asks. “You’d likely receive high recognition if you take responsibility for that. Contributing to the war effort, or something along those lines.”</p><p>Jian Yi swallows and shakes his head. “There’s nothing I can do if he dies, but I won’t gloat over it, either. I don't care what the counsel says; this is a <em> life </em>we’re talking about, not a trophy.”</p><p>He Tian huffs, dry. “How noble. Its kind didn’t seem to feel the same way during the attack.”</p><p>The look Jian Yi gives him is tired but stern, and He Tian knows he’s being obstinate without being told. After all, they already settled this matter when He Tian had decided to stay and help, reluctance be damned. And so he presses his lips together, conceding to a sour neutrality, and eventually Jian Yi takes it as a cue to continue. </p><p>“If it comes down to it, we can't control everyone in Kuoda. But there’s certain people I <em> really </em>don’t want to involve in this if we can help it. Like my parents, and Xixi. I’m worried that—“</p><p>“Zheng Xi?” He Tian suddenly cuts in, equal parts surprised and intrigued. “You won’t tell <em> Zheng Xi </em> of this?”</p><p>A heavy swallow. “I…”</p><p>He Tian has to take a moment; to look Jian Yi in the eye and search for truth. But the man's gaze, though wilted, is steady, and He Tian can only marvel for a long moment.</p><p>"Zheng Xi be furious if he finds out himself," He Tian tells him, slow, "and there’ll be nothing I can do for you at that point, Jian Yi.”</p><p>“But if I tell him now, he’ll forbid me from helping him!” Jian Yi insists, gesturing to the shifter. “He's so stiff about things like this; you know that as well as I do. He throws a fit every time we skip an assembly, or buy too much from the market — but helping a<em> shifter?</em>  I’m scared enough with <em> you </em> knowing, I don’t want to have to fight Xixi on this, too.”</p><p>“So you’ll never speak of this to him and pretend like it never happened?” He Tian prods.</p><p>Jian Yi’s shoulders cave in. “Well, what else am I to do?”</p><p>A pause.</p><p>“This is unheard of,” is the only thing He Tian can manage. Jian Yi nods, as if he already knows it but wishes he didn’t. His gaze drifts to the shifter, and his eyes are hollow and dull. </p><p>“This is…” He shakes his head, drawing his lip between his teeth. “Who knows if he’ll even survive this? I’ve already given him a fair amount of sage but he’s already showing signs of a fever and can barely stay conscious. He’s lucky I came when I did, but I still worry. And I’ll be happy if he pulls through, I really will, but I know other people might be— might be <em> weird </em> because, well, I’m not <em> stupid, </em> okay, and I know what this is and how it’ll look because you’re looking at me like that <em> right now </em> and I already <em> know </em> that this is all so… so…”</p><p>“Wrong?” He Tian offers. A vein jumps in Jian Yi’s throat, but he doesn’t deny it. </p><p>“Xixi would <em> kill </em> me,” he mumbles after a moment. “He won’t just be angry. He’d be scared, no matter what he’d say. And mum would— <em> stars, </em> I don’t even know what she’d think. I don’t <em> want </em> to know and I don’t want my family to suffer because of this, especially when we’re already worried enough about dad.”</p><p>His voice is thick by the end of it. He Tian knows he doesn’t like talking about his father. He’d fallen ill before Jian Yi was born, a talented young man who was already bedridden when his son took his first steps. Knowing this, He Tian had been sure to steer clear of the father’s bedroom when he had stayed with the Jians as a child. The man’s illness made him uneasy, as did many other things in his life at the time, and He Tian had felt guilty for making Meixiu not only care for her husband but also the sorry state of the boy that slept on the floor of Jian Yi’s room for nearly a month. They've never spoken of it since, but He Tian knows the father's illness is more debilitating for the family than what they'll admit — than what Jian Yi will admit. </p><p>“Then what do you plan to do?” He Tian asks, pointed and perhaps a little harsh — but <em> reasonable. </em>“If it survives? Before that, even. These wounds are extensive and will take time to heal. You can’t bring it home, and it’ll either be found by someone else or freeze to death during the winter if you leave it here. And if what it said was true and it can’t shift back into— into a dragon, how are you to return it back where it came from? Ship it out on the last boat in Rukou? Give it a horse and say good luck?”</p><p>Jian Yi refuses to look at him, digesting the words as he finishes applying the salve, pulling down the remains of the shifter’s sleeve to cover it. And for a while, they sit in silence. The wind whips around them, quiet, as if nervous to interject. The shifter breathes heavily in its daze, sweat beaded on its forehead, and He Tian refuses to look at it. </p><p>Finally, Jian Yi looks up. </p><p>“I’ll keep him in our shed,” he says, pale eyes aglow in the lantern’s flare. “The one we built a few summers ago. Mum doesn’t go there anymore, so he can stay as long as he needs. After that, I— I don’t know.” A pause. “Maybe he’ll have better ideas when he’s conscious again, or maybe he’ll run off before it becomes a problem. I guess we’ll decide when the time comes. But for now, this is enough. It’s all I can do.”</p><p>He Tian shakes his head, looking away. He doesn’t even know where to begin. Few times in his life has he felt so conflicted. So <em> incapable. </em>Water rushing over his head, and he’s forgotten how to swim.</p><p>But then, brief, he thinks of a last resort. He thinks of Cheng. He can almost feel the man's presence over his shoulder, silent but heavy, a looming presence in the shadows.</p><p><em>What would he do?</em> He Tian asks himself. <em>What would he think? What would he say?</em></p><p>The thoughts leave as quickly as they came. He Tian's shoulder twinges with a familiar ache, and he thinks he smells smoke. </p><p>“I won’t tell anyone,” He Tian says into the silence, mouth gone dry, “as long as you are confident about the shed. But don't misunderstand me; I don’t think this is your brightest fucking idea, either. If anything goes wrong I’m putting an end to this there and then. You won't stop me again."</p><p>“Okay.” Jian Yi wets his lips, and it’s the most raw uncertainty He Tian has ever seen in him. “Okay, that’s fair. Thank you. And... I’m sorry, He Tian. I never wanted to make you responsible for any of this. Really.”</p><p>He Tian pushes Jian Yi’s feet off his lap. “Just finish what you're doing so we can go."</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>He’s flying. </p><p>The skies are expansive and clear; the air cold against his face. Clouds shudder against the beat of his wings. They disperse at his touch, mist cool against his body, and he closes his eyes. Breathes in deep. Treasures the serenity.</p><p>And then there’s a strong burst of wind, rattling his balance, and he opens his eyes.</p><p>The clouds have turned black. Rain pelts him. Lightning streaks the sky with fury, thunder bellows in his ears, and he blinks—</p><p>And he’s home. Sitting at the dinner table, his mother rationing out rice into his bowl, and she’s humming and the fire is warm.</p><p>He opens his mouth. He can’t speak. </p><p>There’s a knock at the door. </p><p>He watches as his mother goes to answer it. He turns and looks down. The food on the table is gone. </p><p>His cup of water has spilled, dripping through the cracks.</p><p>He looks up. </p><p>His mother is talking to someone, voices so hushed, her body blocking his view.</p><p>Someone gasps. Another cries out.</p><p>He tries to stand. He can’t. </p><p>He inhales—</p><p>And his mother is kneeling in front of him, sobbing, eyes rimmed red, cheeks wet with tears. And she’s holding his face in her hands, thumbs rubbing against his cheeks, and she’s saying something so <em> urgently </em> but he can’t hear her. Sees her mouth moving but can’t understand her. </p><p>Watches as her tongue works around a single word that strikes him. </p><p>“Dad?” he whispers back. </p><p>She’s gone. His chair trembles beneath him. The floorboards reach up to him, cutting his legs, and he has no choice but to let them swallow him. He shouts with no voice.</p><p>And he falls through the earth.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jian Yi arrives at Zheng Xi’s door the next day. </p><p>“Do you have ginger?” he blurts before Zheng Xi can get a word out.</p><p>“Uh,” Zheng Xi says, eyeing the purple bags under Jian Yi’s eyes. “We might. I got some in the market a while back. I’m not sure though, my mother might have used it for—“</p><p>Rushed: “Can you check?”</p><p>Zheng Xi frowns. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping with clean-up right now?”</p><p>A pause. The comment seems to snap Jian Yi out of whatever determination he previously held. The blond takes half a step back and, after a moment, summons forth an easygoing smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. </p><p>“I already did,” he says, rocking back on his heels, “or, uh, I did for a while. The last hole in the rancher’s roof got fixed so I decided to take a break for a bit.”</p><p>“Then what do you need ginger for?”</p><p>“Dad,” Jian Yi answers, too fast, and Zheng Xi’s brows knit together despite himself. “He’s feeling, uh, nauseous — again — and he wants soup, er, I mean tea, but mum didn’t know that we were gonna be attacked so soon after last month’s raid so she didn’t go to the market even though I told her that we were running low on stock and I— <em> she </em> just went to look and we’re out of ginger and she doesn’t know where to get more since everything’s closed for the time being and so I thought I’d—“</p><p>“Enough,” Zheng Xi sighs, pinching between his eyes as he turns to walk inside. “I’ll find some. Just— stay here.”</p><p>And he does. And when Zheng Xi places the roots into Jian Yi’s hand, the blond cries a thank you before rushing off, bumping into the shoulder of a passing woman and giving a hurried apology before disappearing between the buildings. </p><p>Zheng Xi, stunned, can only watch. </p><p>He doesn’t see Jian Yi much after that. </p><p>That afternoon: “Oh, Jian Yi, I was looking for—“</p><p>“Sorry Xixi, I have to get back home right now! I’ll see you!”</p><p>The next day: “Jian Yi, come with me to the—“</p><p>“Can’t, sorry! But, uhm, do you happen to have some spare blankets lying around?”</p><p>That evening: “Jian Yi, where have you been all—“</p><p>“I have to go help care for the, uh, sheep that got burned! Sorry, Xixi!”</p><p>By the time He Tian drops by the Zhan’s shop, fatigued from a day’s worth of labor moving piles of debris, Zheng Xi places the cup of water on the table with a little more force than necessary, water sloshing against the sides. Taking it, He Tian raises a brow. </p><p>“Is something wrong?” he asks before swallowing down a mouthful. </p><p>“He’s been <em> pouting,” </em>Zi Qian answers from across the kitchen before her brother can, kneading fresh dough to be stored for tomorrow. She adds more oil before continuing, “I’ve already tried asking and mom’s too afraid to.”</p><p>He Tian offers a smirk, humoring her. “Is that so? I thought he told you ‘everything’."</p><p>A roll of eyes, a pounding of the dough, and He Tian is starting to think Zheng Xi isn’t the only one pouting. “Yes, well, he’s been <em> pitiful</em> this time, Tian-ge.”</p><p>“That’s nothing new, is it?” </p><p>And then he mimics Zheng Xi’s scowl: the slightest downhill of his eyebrows, a slant in his mouth, a deadened look in the eye. Zi Qian, frown conquered, laughs. Her emotions have always been easy to read and amend — unlike her brother’s. Jian Yi is the master at molding her mood to their favor, but He Tian has picked up a few skills of his own over the years. After all, Cheng already taught him everything he’s not supposed to do; it was only filling in the pieces from there.</p><p>But now, mouth set in a line, Zheng Xi turns to He Tian. </p><p>“Is it true?” he demands. </p><p>His tone is accusatory; tight. All good humor leaves the air like a dropped stone. He Tian, seated at the table, looks up at him over the brim of his cup. Zheng Xi’s eyes are hard, his face taut, and a moment passes in which He Tian’s not quite sure how to respond. </p><p><em> Don’t tell Zheng Xi, </em> he thinks a bit sourly, setting down his water, <em> and yet you already went and told him yourself in less than a week?  </em></p><p>“Is what true?” He Tian tries anyway. </p><p>Zheng Xi’s jaw works. “The burned sheep. And the collapsed blacksmith’s roof. And the — bloody stars, what else did he say? — the <em> felled tree </em> in the pastures. Is all that true?”</p><p>He Tian watches him for a moment, fingers drumming against the cup, and then understanding dawns on him. Leaning back, he shrugs. Says, “I don’t know. I’ve been back and forth in the commons for the past few days. I did hear that the perimeter of town saw a lot of damage, though.”</p><p>“Then you haven’t seen Jian Yi at all?”</p><p>“We’re focused on different assignments.”</p><p>“Stars,” Zheng Xi mutters, sinking into the chair opposite of him. The scowl on his face is a small but perpetual thing, and He Tian wonders what could have possibly possessed Jian Yi for him to believe that running around Kuoda — whether he’s attending his duties or not — while a <em> shifter </em>lies meters from his home is a good idea, much less while interacting with the one person he wants to avoid. He Tian's first mistake was believing Jian Yi could go a substantial amount of time without craving Zheng Xi's company. Trusting the blond with a stowed shifter was a second mistake that He Tian can no longer amend. </p><p>“Just when I thought he couldn’t get any worse…” Zheng Xi sighs, head in hand. “I knew I shouldn’t have left that day.”</p><p>“The day at the stream?” He Tian asks, and Zheng Xi nods. “Why?”</p><p>A sigh. “I saw him walking by the east market when I was delivering something for my mother, and he was <em> limping </em> like he was crippled. Or like the ground was burning his feet, maybe. It looked odd.”</p><p>He Tian raises the cup to his lips, face carefully blank. “It's Jian Yi; he was probably in his own world. Like you’d said, he caught nothing and we returned after sunset that day.”</p><p>
  <em> With a half-dead shifter slumped over his back and blood staining his shirt and socks.  </em>
</p><p>Perhaps, He Tian realizes with a sudden tiredness, Jian Yi was right in keeping Zheng Xi in the dark. He can’t be bothered to imagine the look on the latter’s face if he were to tell him the truth now. The panicked and angry march to Jian Yi’s home that would ensue afterwards. It would drain He Tian of the little energy he has left, and he’d likely end up doing something Jian Yi would never forgive him for in exchange for the faintest peace of mind.</p><p>Bloody stars. </p><p>“Brother,” Zi Qian pipes in, voice softer and void of prior teasing as she looks at the two. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that fetching you that day would’ve caused Jian Yi to start acting differently.”</p><p>“No, no,” Zheng Xi assures her, shaking his head. “That was— It had nothing to do with that. He Tian’s right; I’m just… overthinking it.” He turns away, mouth twisted. “Maybe I should talk to him, like you said, He Tian. It might help clear my head.”</p><p>He Tian inhales. Rubs at his nose with a thumb. </p><p>“You should wait a while longer before that,” he says, watching Zheng Xi’s profile. “Give him some time to figure out what he’s doing. Maybe he’ll get past it.”</p><p>
  <em> Or maybe he’ll put a knife through its throat and we can all move on with our lives. </em>
</p><p>Zheng Xi gives him a questioning look. “That’s not what you said at the stream.”</p><p>A shrug. “Some time might do you<em> both </em> well. Do what you want, but you’ll scare him and shut him down even longer if you spring it on him like this.”</p><p>Zheng Xi seems to soak that in. He Tian looks away. The lies roll off his tongue too easily, but he knows how Jian Yi crumbles like thin ice when enough pressure is applied. Zheng Xi would only have to say five stern words before the blond would panic and blurt truths. He’d always hated being under scrutiny — especially when Zheng Xi was involved. Maybe it's because of his pride, or maybe something else.</p><p>“Okay,” Zheng Xi sighs, standing with a creak of the chair. “You're right. Some thinking time might be good." He glances out the open window. "Still, I have to drop off something for him before night falls, and it looks like it might storm soon.”</p><p>He Tian frowns. “What is it?”</p><p>“Blankets. Old ones that Zixi and I used as kids. He said yesterday that he needed them for some reason, and I’ve just found them.”</p><p><em>Stars. </em>Standing, He Tian says, “I’ll take them. I’m headed home for the night, anyway.”</p><p>A pause. Zheng Xi regards him carefully. “You’re oddly involved today,” he remarks, but moves to grab the small pile of blankets near their shelves regardless. “Am I missing something? Should I be worried about you, too?”</p><p>He Tian takes the proffered blankets, tucking them under his arm. “If that’s the case, you should’ve been concerned years ago.”</p><p>Zheng Xi huffs, amused. “I’m only one person,” he confesses. “Jian Yi is trouble enough.”</p><p><em> I’m well aware, </em>He Tian thinks, but holds it on his tongue. Instead he starts for the door and says, “I’ll drop them off.”</p><p>“Come back tomorrow, Tian-ge!” Zi Qian calls after him, waving a flour-coated hand. “I’ll save some tarts for you!”</p><p>And He Tian promises her so, because the gleam in her eyes reminds him of Jian Yi and none of them can afford to smother her energy after recent events. But when he steps outside, the sky purpling as the sun fades, the town quiet as its people huddle inside for the night — energy drains from him like rainwater running from roofs. He’s far too tired for this, having gotten only broken sleep with the thought of a shifter on the Jian’s property, and irritation shows itself in the way he grips the blankets as he heads northwest. </p><p>As Zheng Xi said, a storm is building among the evening’s chill. A cold wind has picked up, numbing the tips of his ears, and the low rumble of thunder rolls within the darkened clouds as he walks. The smell of rain is a pungent but soothing reminder of autumn’s end; the last trace of fair weather before droplets turn to sleet, and sleet to heavy snow. He's already begun to lament the clear, uninhibited paths between buildings as he beelines through town. Soon, they'll be spending more time shoveling and slushing their way through wet snow than they will be getting to their intended locations. </p><p>The edge of town opens to him as he passes the small eastern market. Daylight is close to disappearing when the Jian’s home comes within sight, but He Tian can easily spot the wooden shed on the edge of their land. It’s sturdy but somewhat small, made of nothing more than leftover oak and a few well-placed nails, a forgotten legacy of a late summer’s project. They’d built it out of nothing but the sheer boredom of restless teenage boys — and to gain the proud smile of Meixiu, who’d promised to use the shed as storage for her excess gardening equipment. </p><p>Now, He Tian wonders what face the woman would make if she happened upon the shed’s newest tenant. The shock and outrage that would occur would be catastrophic. Kuoda would be numbed in the aftermath, and the story of the shifter in the shed would be passed down for generations.</p><p>But He Tian would watch it happen. Would turn a blind eye, but not before he peeked. Cheng had always said he liked to watch the world burn; a sadistic curiosity borne from misfortune, maintained just long enough to see the end result. Only now does He Tian see some truth in his words — though shame does not follow as it should. </p><p>He approaches the property. The lights are out within the Jian’s home, shutters drawn shut. Even as he comes close, He Tian doesn’t hear any voices or clattering that might point to activity. The family has always been early risers, which in turn means they’re early victims to the night. He stops before starting on the path to the front door, and glances beyond the house. On the horizon, the shed stands tall. </p><p>An exhale, deep and drawn. He ought to leave the blankets by the house’s front door. It’s the most logical choice — it's what Zheng Xi would do. After all, daylight is fading and he’s becoming cold and he doesn't need any more inhibitors to a good night's rest.</p><p>But then his feet are moving. Past the fencing, past the house. Blame it on paranoia, he tells himself, or perhaps unresolved vexation. Nonetheless he approaches the shed with wavering determination; unconvinced rationality. The building only lies a few wide strides from the house, a worn path leading to its door, and his shoes make little sound in the soil as he walks. For a moment he questions if it’s intentional or not.</p><p>But then he arrives, and he’s not sure what he was expecting to come upon. There’s no light peeping between the boards' cracks; no shuffling or movement coming from within. The shed is as empty and abandoned as it had always appeared, its grave-like silence somehow uncanny as he stands before it.</p><p>It's strangely anticlimactic. He Tian muses what he’d find if he reached out and pushed open the door and let the fading sun seep into the outbuilding. It’s a surreal feeling, knowing that something so unwarranted — much less a <em> shifter — </em>is feet in front of him, separated only by a flimsy wall of wood. What is holding either side of the wall's occupants back from unleashing violence, from laying claim to the superior species of being?</p><p>And if Jian Yi has been as elusive as Zheng Xi says, what state could the shifter be in? Dazed, haggard, ashen? Or perhaps lively and active, to the point the blond is afraid to leave it alone for too long in fear of what it might do when unattended? In fear of what the consequences could mean for the Jian family?</p><p>There is, of course, only one way to know for sure.</p><p>He Tian steps forward. Reaches out. </p><p>Places the blankets at the foot of the shed’s door — then turns and leaves.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>That night, He Tian wakes with a start. </p><p>His eyes open to the ceiling. His room is dark and cold, the fire smothered hours prior, and his clothes lay in a crumpled pile on the floor where he’d discarded them earlier. His sleep had been a dreamless one, a sheet of black pulled over his eyes. Time is lost to him, and he can’t fathom whether he’d been sleeping for hours or minutes or days. </p><p>Sitting up on his elbows, He Tian lets the bedsheets slide from his bared torso, blinking a dazed alarm from his eyes. He waits, looks around, but nothing happens. And for a few moments he can’t place what had woken him so suddenly; no alarms are sounding, no neighbors screaming, no smoke filling the room. The howling winds and the pounding of rain against the roof give him a fair idea, but he’s never considered himself that light of a sleeper. The stress truly must be getting to him. </p><p>And so he’s about to lie back down, eyes weighted with exhaustion, muscles sore and pained — when he hears heavy, hurried, panicked <em> pounding </em> that shakes the walls and has him shooting upright again.</p><p>“What the fuck?” he mutters, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, sleep-heavy. The floorboards are cold against his bare feet as he makes his way through the house, and he’s only guided by the fading smolder of the common room’s fireplace as he pulls open the front door — and freezes.</p><p>“He Tian,” Jian Yi says, breathless and chattering in the doorway, soaked from head to toe with rainwater, shivering as his wet hair hangs in his wide, stricken eyes. Behind him, the storm rages in darkness. “I— I’m sorry, I—”</p><p>“What happened?” He Tian snaps — then looks beyond him, expecting to see fires and smoke and shadows flying in the dark, wreaking havoc on their town, the inevitable outcome of a single bad decision hidden away in an outhouse. But there are none, and He Tian pulls Jian Yi inside with a bruising grip and slams the door hard enough to make the other man flinch. “What <em> happened?” </em></p><p>Jian Yi is shaking, a puddle growing at his soaked shoes. It’s obvious he doesn’t know what to say; where to begin. But he would only run through a storm like this if something was desperately <em> wrong, </em> and He Tian’s chest grows tight as he looks at him. And his own mind runs wild in the silence — thoughts uncontrolled, the worst scenarios surfacing like driftwood. And he blames himself because he knew he shouldn’t have agreed to this shit. He <em> knew </em> better than to let Jian Yi <em> handle </em> something like this, and he knew he <em> shouldn’t have allowed </em>—</p><p>“He’s not doing well,” Jian Yi says finally, voice hoarse and pained. His arms are wrapped around himself and his nose and cheeks are reddened from the cold, yet he speaks of someone else as if he lives outside his own body. </p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“Who <em> else?</em><em>” </em> Jian Yi says, incredulous. “He’s freezing to death and he hasn’t woken for <em> hours </em> and his body refuses to keep down anything I give him, even water, and—”</p><p>“It hasn’t woken?” He Tian demands. When Jian Yi shakes his head, He Tian deflates, breath coming back to him in a rush. </p><p>“Fucking stars, Jian Yi,” he growls, running a hand through his hair. “I thought the damned thing went missing and started to run rampant on Kuoda.”</p><p>“No, but— That doesn’t <em> matter, </em>that couldn’t possibly happen with the state he’s in!” Jian Yi cries, stepping forward. “He's gotten <em>worse.</em> Much, much worse. I can only do so much for him without making my mum suspicious and the weather is so horrible tonight, I went to check on him just in case and I’m really worried that—”</p><p>He Tian scowls. “Worried of what, Jian Yi?” he interrupts, sharp. “That it’ll die? You said yourself that there’d be nothing you could do, and it ought to stay that way.”</p><p>“But there <em> is </em> something I can do,” Jian Yi implores, desperation choking his words. “There’s something <em> you </em> could do, for me. <em> Please, </em> He Tian, the weather is making his symptoms worse and if he gets any colder he’ll <em> die, </em> and I don’t want it to end like this! I’ve worked so hard and I can’t bring him into my home because my parents are there but you live alone and so far from the centre of town, <em> please, </em>it’ll only be for tonight, I swear!”</p><p>But He Tian has already turned from him, walking back into the common room, a muscle jumping in his throat. Shaking but determined, Jian Yi follows close behind him, footsteps heavy and sloshed. </p><p>“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” He Tian mutters. “You <em> cannot </em> be serious right now.”</p><p>“I am, I really <em> am,” </em> Jian Yi beseeches, hands gripping at his own soggy clothes. “I know how you feel about him and that’s why I came to ask permission first, but please know that I am serious and <em> honest </em> and I would've gone to Xixi but he doesn’t <em> know </em>and my family would never allow— I’m not<em>—He Tian—!”</em> </p><p>He Tian is still walking, past the bookshelf, past the fireplace. Words fall on deaf ears; his back is like a wall.</p><p>But then there’s a sharp inhale, storming footsteps, a hand on He Tian’s shoulder, grabbing him and forcing him around— </p><p>And Jian Yi explodes: “Does it not seem like a fair enough <em> payment </em>for all that we <em>did</em> for you?"</p><p>Silence. </p><p>The world goes still. The only sounds are the dripping of Jian Yi’s clothes and the wailing of the storm. Jian Yi retracts his hand from He Tian, slow and detached, eyes wet and wide and breath caught in his throat as if he can’t quite believe he’d…</p><p>“Payment,” He Tian says, hollowed and quiet. “Were my circumstances back then considered a debt to your family? To you?”</p><p>Jian Yi steps back, shaking for a new reason. “No, no, <em> stars </em> they weren’t, I— I don’t know what I— I’m sorry, He Tian, I didn’t mean it.”</p><p>“I wonder if you did.”</p><p>“I <em> didn’t, </em>I—”</p><p>The crack of his voice is dry and broken. He Tian can only look at him, the dying embers in the fireplace casting a grim glow on their legs. Jian Yi’s eyes are glassy and anxious, as if his own words had impaled and pained himself, and his gaze has dropped to their feet. His hands, trembling, have curled into themselves.</p><p>“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jian Yi finally croaks, voice thick. “I thought I did but I’m— I don’t know what I’m <em>doing.</em> And I’m scared because I know that you’re right because you’re <em>always right</em> and mum will be so disappointed and scared, too, but I don’t want him to die. I don’t want <em>anyone </em>to die. I’m so tired of this town and this <em>war</em> and I’m so stupid to have thought that this would change anything but I <em>wanted </em>it to. I still do. But you’re more important to me than a shifter ever will be and I’m— I’m— I’m <em>sorry, </em>I’m sorry, He Tian, I’m—”</p><p>“Stop.”</p><p>“I am, I’m <em>sorr—”</em></p><p>
  <em> “Enough.” </em>
</p><p>He Tian brings a hand to his face. Closes his eyes. Hears the somber cracking of the fire and the shudders and sniffles Jian Yi can’t control. </p><p>But his thoughts aren’t turbulent; aren’t bitter and confused like they might have once been, back when the wounds were deep and fresh and tender to the touch. He knows why Jian Yi said it, and he knows what he feels now that he finally has. He knows that whatever he chooses to say, to answer with, Jian Yi can no longer dispute it. He’s helpless.</p><p>He's spiraling.</p><p>“Stop crying,” He Tian mutters into his palm, voice tight. “I’m not Zheng Xi. I don’t know how to handle you when you cry.”</p><p>And Jian Yi, snot running from his nose, can only watch when He Tian starts walking away, back to his bedroom. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he grieves after him, one last time. “I'm sorry. I’ll... leave you.”</p><p>But He Tian shakes his head. Says, “I’m getting coats. You’ll freeze to fucking death before we reach the shed otherwise.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The rain is relentless. It pierces He Tian’s skin through his coat, water turned to hail. They can hardly see one another as they run through the torrent, the rainfall blinding their eyes and stinging their faces. Mud sucks their shoes into the ground with every step, and their shoulders bump into walls hard enough to leave bruises as they race the streets. Behind the old bakery, the homeless cat mewls in fear as they pass. </p><p>By the time they’re sloshing through the wet grass on the Jian's land, their breathing is labored and pained. Somehow, the shed still stands strong beneath the beating of the hail, and faint yellow light shines from beneath the door as Jian Yi pushes it open. He Tian, cold air piercing his lungs and the wound on his side aching, is still wiping water from his eyes as the blond urges him indoors. </p><p>But then they’re inside; the storm quieted, if only a little. There's a small and weathered lantern shining from a hook on the wall, a wet, rotten, earthy smell hanging in the air, and He Tian steps forward and sees the shifter for the first time since the woods. </p><p>It’s as Jian Yi said — and for once, He Tian cannot say the man was exaggerating. The shifter is deathly pale, curled into a ball atop of a single blanket on the wooden floor, mouth slightly agape and breathing staggered, surrounded by broken gardening pots and bags of soil that are dripped on by rainwater leaking through the roof. Dirty bowls of cold soup and a half-cup of water sit nearby the creature, untouched, and dried blood soaks through discarded rags in the corner. There’s something foul-smelling in the air, and it’s only as he steps closer does He Tian realize the floor is stained the same hue as the front of the shifter’s torn shirt; a nauseating yellow-brown color that, in He Tian’s opinion, would make the shifter throw up even more if it saw it. </p><p>“Bloody stars,” He Tian says as he watches Jian Yi kneel next to the creature. </p><p>“I told you it’s bad,” Jian Yi says, pressing a cautious hand to its forehead. “Really, really bad. I haven’t been able to leave him alone for long periods, and he’s been hallucinating or having nightmares or— something. I think it's the fever and poison."</p><p>He Tian grimaces. “Get it on its feet so we can go.”</p><p>Jian Yi shakes his head, standing. “He won’t be able to walk. He’s not conscious." He pauses, then declares: "I’ll carry him if you’ll take those bags in the corner. They have the blankets, some bandages, and spare herbs I’ve been giving him. ”</p><p>He Tian pauses, watching as Jian Yi leans down and pulls at the shifter’s dead weight in an attempt to sling it over his back as he had done when moving it from the forest. Except this time, the shifter doesn’t groan as it had done before. It doesn’t sway its head or swing an arm in half-consciousness. It moves like a corpse under Jian Yi’s maneuvers, and He Tian is only convinced it’s still alive because of the slow, uneven rise and fall of its chest.</p><p>"Come on, buddy," Jian Yi says through gritted teeth, fighting a losing battle to stand, "work with me here, or you'll <em>die</em><em>."</em></p><p>He Tian glances at the bags, then back to the blond’s struggling form. </p><p>He shrugs off his coat. </p><p>“What are you—” Jian Yi startles, flinching as He Tian’s wet coat falls onto the shifter’s body with a wet slap. “What are you doing?”</p><p>“Take the bags,” He Tian says, gruffly pushing Jian Yi’s head aside. “I’ll carry it.”</p><p>“Stars, it’s a <em> him, </em>not—” Jian Yi shakes his head, flustered. “Forget it. You don’t have to do this; you’re already doing enough. I can—”</p><p>“It took you an hour to carry it back from the woods, and that was with it carrying half its own weight. We don’t have that time now.” He Tian gives him a look, severe. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”</p><p>And perhaps it’s the sharpness of his tone, or the time-sensitive nature of the situation, or the fact that He Tian is here, helping, when he should be sleeping safe and warm and <em> uninvolved </em> in his own home that ultimately makes Jian Yi shut up. And as the blond sheepishly walks away, slinging the bags over his shoulder, He Tian leans down. Hooks an arm under the shifter’s knees, careful of the stitching in its thigh, and another arm around its shoulders. The creature’s body is freezing — and far too <em> light </em> — and He Tian readjusts so its arms are tucked against his body, its more serious wounds protected by his coat, and its lolling head resting against his shoulder. Looking down, He Tian sees a splattering of freckles across the shifter’s face, far too dark against its flushed skin. Unnervingly silent, the shifter doesn’t respond to the jostling of its body. He Tian frowns.</p><p>“On death’s doorstep,” he mutters. Jian Yi nods, nervous. </p><p>“I know. Let’s just hurry back and get him warm.”</p><p>Jian Yi holds the door open for him as they leave, and the hail is brutal against the bare skin of He Tian’s arms. The shifter, pelted by the downpour, turns its face into He Tian’s shirt with a weak groan. It’s the most movement He Tian think’s he’ll ever see from it again.</p><p>“Can you run?” Jian Yi yells over the wind. </p><p>He Tian, teeth clenched, nods. </p><p>They run.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Where’s your firewood?” </p><p>“In the corner by the shelves. Bring three logs, it should be enough.”</p><p>“And the flint?”</p><p>“In the drawer on your left. No, the <em> other </em> fucking drawer, you idiot!”</p><p>“Sorry, sorry!”</p><p>As Jian Yi shuffles through the common room’s cabinets in a panic, He Tian kicks off his shoes and hastily makes his way to his bedroom. The shifter hadn’t shown a sign of life in the journey back, and He Tian sets it on the carpet against the wall. The sound of the bed frame scraping against the floor is drowned out by the storm, and with a concerted effort he pulls the bed as close as possible to the fireplace without posing a hazard.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Jian Yi asks from the doorway, arms full with stacked wood. “Why not in the common room? You’ve got a fireplace there, too.”</p><p>“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have furniture out there large enough for it to lay out on,” He Tian snaps, pulling the shifter’s dead weight back into his arms. Jian Yi only watches him in a stunned sort of silence. But as He Tian walks towards the bed, laying the creature down, he demands, “What are you standing there for?”</p><p>Startled, Jian Yi quickly gets to work. It’s a tight squeeze between the bed and the fireplace, but the blond’s lean body sets the wood in place and strikes the flint as He Tian pulls the bedsheets over the shifter. </p><p>Out of a misplaced curiosity, He Tian places the back of his hand on the shifter’s cheek. The skin feels of ice, and he frowns. </p><p>“It shouldn’t be alive,” He Tian says as Jian Yi blows on the newborn flame, quickly bringing the fire to life. “The wounds and fever would have killed anyone else by now.”</p><p>“That’s what I thought, too,” Jian Yi says after the fire's at a decent size, sliding out of his contorted pose, “but maybe it’s because he’s a shifter. Maybe they have higher tolerance. I mean, I thought he would die the day I brought him to the shed, but here we are. He’s... resilient, I suppose?”</p><p>“That’s one way to put it,” He Tian mutters, pulling up the latter half of the bedsheets. As he’d expected, the shifter’s pant leg is soaking through with fresh blood, and he grimaces. “The wound reopened.”</p><p>Jian Yi stands. “I brought some things just in case. His burn needs tending, too. Some water would really help if you have any.”</p><p>“I don’t, but I sure hope I can find some in the middle of this rainstorm.”</p><p>Jian Yi sticks his tongue out at him. He Tian flips him off.</p><p>But he leaves to get the water anyway. By the time he returns, the blond is perched at the edge of the bed unwrapping the shifter’s burned arm, and the room has already grown warm from the fire.</p><p>“Here,” He Tian says, handing him the container. Jian Yi takes it with a half-hearted smirk before turning back to his work, focused. </p><p>They lapse into silence after that, neither uncomfortable nor soothing. He Tian watches them for a long while, the crackle of the fire breathing life into its patient, Jian Yi working delicately with the creature’s wounds. After a few minutes, the blond presses his hand to the shifter’s forehead once more — and sighs with heavy relief.</p><p>”I think he’ll be okay. It’s too early to tell, though.”</p><p>He Tian doesn’t respond. He ventures to the other end of the bedroom, sinking to the floor where his bed used to stand. He’s bunching up Jian Yi’s empty, discarded bag into a makeshift pillow when the blond turns to look at him, confused. </p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>“Sleeping,” He Tian replies, gruff, lying down on the bare floor. </p><p>“But you’re soaked.”</p><p>“I’m tired.”</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“I’m <em> sleeping,” </em>He Tian repeats, closing his eyes. Eventually the bed creaks with movement, and He Tian knows Jian Yi has given up. </p><p>Hours settle in. The world whispers around them, a lullaby of the night. The fire pops, the storm howls, and Jian Yi is humming a quiet song as he works. A day has never felt so long, and the darkness more inviting. </p><p>For the first time in three nights, He Tian slips into a restful sleep. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you all so much for your love and support! it honestly, <i>truly</i> means the world to me - I just can't put it into words! </p><p>please consider leaving kudos/comments if you've enjoyed, and feel free to visit me on my <a href="https://nightfayre.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>! have a wonderful rest of your week and stay safe &amp; healthy &lt;33</p><p><b>EDIT 12/5/20:</b> here are the links (<a href="https://littlemountainblue.tumblr.com/post/635967612782854144/part-1-i-made-this-based-on-the-wonderful">pt1</a> - <a href="https://littlemountainblue.tumblr.com/post/635967626976378880/part-2-i-made-this-based-on-the-wonderful-fanfic">pt2</a> - <a href="https://littlemountainblue.tumblr.com/post/635967642062241792/part-3-i-made-this-based-on-the-wonderful-fanfic">pt3</a>) for the incredible fanart for this chapter created by @littlemountainblue! thank you all so much for your genuine love for this story :) I've never felt happier to share my works with a fandom!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. scorch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You go for the wings. No matter your state, or the state of the beast in front of you, you always, <em> always </em> go for the wings. You’ve no other choice. If the wings are intact, the beast will attack. Understand?”</p><p>He Tian remembers it well. The crackle of the fireplace and the thick smell of warmth, sitting criss-cross on the common room floor with a blanket as Cheng pared pieces of wood with a small dagger. He remembers how they had to be quiet because mother told He Tian to go to bed an hour ago but Cheng let him stay up longer, and he remembers how eager he’d been to let his brother pass down whispered wisdom of beast slaying like secrets told in the dark. </p><p>“If the wings are intact, the beast will attack,” He Tian had repeated, slow. He liked the sound of it. He stretched out his legs in front of him, and wondered if he’d ever grow up to be as tall as Cheng-ge. He had to, didn’t he? “That’s easy.”</p><p>“Is it?”</p><p>“Yes. And <em> obvious. </em>That’s how the dragons fly, right? With their wings, like the birds.” He Tian stretched his arms above him, small palms pointed toward the ceiling, the blanket slipping off his shoulders. “And they’re hard to get when they’re all the way up in the sky — up with the birds. We have to bring them back down.”</p><p>“Exactly,” Cheng said, “but it’s not as easy as it sounds. The dragons know it’s their weak spot, and they’ll do whatever they can to stop you.”</p><p>He Tian had smirked. “They won’t be <em>able</em> to stop me. I’ll get them before they can. I’ll get them like you and father, and I’ll give mother their heads.”</p><p>And He Tian remembers how Cheng said nothing to that; how it was hard to see his older brother’s face with only the firelight, shadows bouncing like skipped rocks on a lake’s surface. And he remembers how, eventually, Cheng told him to come, which He Tian obeyed, and how he’d placed the unfinished arrow he’d been whittling in He Tian’s small palms. It was warm from Cheng’s handling. He Tian liked the feeling of its weight. </p><p>“She’d be horrified,” Cheng said, “but proud.”</p><p>He Tian considered that. “Would you be proud, too?” he asked.</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Would father?”</p><p>Cheng huffed, amused. “What do you think?”</p><p>And so He Tian told him what he thought, but he never heard what <em> Cheng </em> thought because soon after he was being pushed to bed as Cheng blew out the candles in his room. The arrow was laid against his wardrobe to be finished in the morning. And after bidding him goodnight, Cheng’s footsteps receded to his own bedroom with quiet thumping.</p><p>But when the house eventually went quiet with sleep, He Tian had lay in the dark for a long while, rolling his head back and forth on his pillow. His thoughts raced wildly. He wondered what it’d be like to finally kill his very own beast, and wondered if his mother would hug him with pride even if he was covered in blood. He wondered if father would smile at him when he heard that He Tian <em> saved the town, </em> and if Cheng-ge would brag about him to the rest of Kuoda like how Jian Yi’s mother talks of her son with love in her eyes. He wondered and wondered and wondered—</p><p>“What do you think?”</p><p>He Tian blinks. The chill of morning air brings him back to himself. He looks to where Jian Yi holds up the edge of the bedsheets, and the pale skin revealed underneath nearly shocks him with its pallor. It’s blotched with the angry red flush of color surrounding the gash in the shifter’s leg — or rather, the newly stitched wound, of which Jian Yi looks up to He Tian for tired yet expectant approval. </p><p>“Better?” Jian Yi asks when no response is forthcoming. “Worse? Come on, you know I’m terrible at reading your expressions. Say something.”</p><p>Humoring him, He Tian studies it. The thread holding together the loose skin is bloodied yet expertly twined, the knotting delicate and precise. It looks of professional grade — and He Tian can’t help but smirk. No sane person would ever look at this stitching, then to Jian Yi, and put the two together. He Tian, however, has come to know better by now.</p><p>“It looks fine,” He Tian says. He steps away from the bed; rubs unconsciously at the back of his neck. It’s sore from the night spent on the ground, and he’d been pained and confused when he woke to the creaking of Jian Yi’s footsteps this morning.</p><p>“Sorry,” Jian Yi had whispered when he saw he was awake. Sitting up on his elbows, He Tian noted the bruising purple under the blond’s eyes and knew that neither of them had gotten a satisfying night’s rest for very different reasons. Still, Jian Yi had tried a smile. “I, uh... made some tea. Want a cup?”</p><p>Now, two empty ceramic teacups later, the two men stand over the shifter’s bedside. Jian Yi replaces the shifter’s pant leg, stiff and brown with dry blood, and pulls back the bedsheets. </p><p>“Hopefully that stitching will be more durable than the last,” he sighs, rubbing tiredly at an eye. He slumps into a chair he’d dragged in from the kitchen at some point in the night and shakes his head. “I spent all night treating his wounds, and he still looks…” A click of the tongue. “Better, I suppose, but not great. He’s still got a fever.”</p><p>That much is evident. The shifter looks as though it hasn’t moved an inch from where it was placed last night, still as stone, and it smells faintly of sweat and earth. He Tian has started to believe he had hallucinated the other-worldly color of its eyes. Since the night in the woods, it hasn’t opened them again.</p><p>“As long as it doesn’t ruin any more of my sheets, I don’t care what state it’s in,” He Tian replies. It’s a conscious effort to not pay the corpse-like figure in his bed any more mind. Instead, he leans back against the wall and watches the dying red embers in the fireplace, unreactive when Jian Yi releases a howl of a yawn. The blond’s long limbs stretch in every direction like crawling vines. </p><p>“Stars, I’m exhausted,” he breathes, going limp. “And I still have to go to Mr. Yu’s today, too.”</p><p>He Tian raises a brow. “You plan to work? In that state?”</p><p>A weak shrug. “I’ll just say the storm kept me up.”</p><p>“Your carelessness is going to be the death of you,” He Tian reprimands him, <em> “and </em> the damned shifter, since that’s apparently a new priority. Zheng Xi will throw a fit if he sees you in this state.”</p><p>He realizes his mistake too late. Jian Yi gives him a quizzical look, suddenly awake. “Xixi?” he asks. “Why would Xixi mind?”</p><p>He Tian shakes his head, folding his arms. “That’s not my conversation to have with you. But stupid choices will lead to consequences, and we don’t get second chances for this.”</p><p>“Right,” Jian Yi mumbles. He lowers his eyes, brief, before letting his gaze fall back on the shifter. “I wouldn’t, but… I already told Mr. Yu I’d be there. The animals are stressed—”</p><p>“I’m stressed.”</p><p>“—and I plan to stop by the markets to gather a few more ingredients to help along the fever, too. If I’m quick, I should be back before sunset and then I can switch watch duty with you.”</p><p>It takes a moment for He Tian to understand the implications behind his words. But then he does, and for a second, there’s only the sound of distant voices and iron-spoke wheelbarrows being tugged through mud from beyond the closed window. Mid-morning sunlight streaks through the cracks of its shutters, golden stripes at Jian Yi’s bandaged feet, and the two men look at each other in fragile silence. </p><p>Jian Yi caves first. </p><p>“Anything,” he says, voice quiet. “You can ask <em> anything </em> from me in return after all of this has passed. I swear on my life.”</p><p>“That’s not the issue,” He Tian says, clipped. “You aren’t the only person who works, Jian Yi. I have my own responsibilities that I need to attend to — responsibilities that will be noticed if they’re ignored or late. I can’t stay here and play <em> babysitter </em> until you decide it’s a good time to be responsible for your own mistakes."</p><p>Jian Yi winces. “I-I know, but — it’s agreed that he’ll be staying here for the time being, right?” he asks, gesturing towards the shifter. “I mean, we’re approaching winter. The weather is going to be increasingly unpredictable. And the longer he’s exposed, the longer he’ll be under my care — and the longer he stays in Kuoda. I know I said only one night, but… this could <em> really </em>help. And with another pair of helping hands, I can speed up the process, too.” </p><p>Jian Yi’s fingers fidget; his gaze, though wavering, is earnest. He says, “I truly think I can pull this off, but only if he stays here. I’m not above admitting that I’m desperate, He Tian. So please. Consider it.” </p><p>He Tian’s lips press. He searches Jian Yi’s anxious expression for any faults and finds many, but none of them as deplorable as He Tian often expects to unearth in others. But he knows, deeply rooted, that he will never find that in the blond — innate maliciousness — or rather, not in the same way he finds it in He Cheng and his father and within himself. And it’s because Jian Yi is childhood rhymes, folklore around a warm fire in the winters, bare feet in the riverbank in the summers. He’s the only one who properly learned how to braid Zi Qian’s hair, who helps groom the sheep and horses out of good will, who tastes new berries he finds on the bushes in the woods and makes paint from them. </p><p>He isn’t meant for this, He Tian knows. He isn’t meant for sickness and burned enemies, or weeping widows mourning for their soulmates. But he tries to be. Wholeheartedly, like everything he does. But his heart bleeds every time, staining his sleeves, and He Tian knows the difference between delusion and empathy well enough. Jian Yi, after all, was the one who taught him. </p><p>“If I didn’t know you like I do, I would say that you planned all of this from the start,” He Tian mutters — but his answer is apparent to the both of them, somewhere in his lack of vehemence. The blond smirks without being able to hide the relief that twinkles in his eyes.</p><p>“I guess it’s assuring to hear you don’t think I’m <em> that </em> evil.”</p><p>“No, I just know you’re not that smart,” He Tian amends and earns a scowl in response. He pushes off the wall and begins to pace the floor, jaw feeling tight and sore. A new kind of exhaustion threatens him, and he pinches between his eyes to ward it off. “What, then? You’ve succeeded in planting the evidence in my home, so how exactly will this pan out from now on?”</p><p>“It won’t be much different from what I was doing before, when he was in the shed,” Jian Yi explains, drumming his fingers on his knees. “But now, there’s two of us. I guess we can take turns coming back to check on him throughout the day. And I’ll try to come up with an excuse to take a few days off with Mr. Yu so that when he’s conscious — which, in his case, probably won’t be for a while — I’ll be here for most of the time. Between the two of us, he should never be alone for too long.”</p><p>A pause. “And your plan if it happens to wake up when neither of us are here? Or when it continues to <em> stay </em>awake?”</p><p>Jian Yi shrinks into himself. “Er… I’ll, uh, figure something out.”</p><p>Hopeless, He Tian shakes his head — then pauses when something catches his eye. There, inconspicuous in the corner on the floor: something shiny. </p><p>“Should I even ask what you plan to do during the nights, then?” He Tian says as he starts towards the object, the ambitious strips of intruding sunlight shimmering off its surface. He leans down to pick it up and places it in the center of his palm. </p><p>It’s a ring. Metallic, small, intricately etched with archaic designs that sprawl across its weathered silver surface. There are no initials; no signature of ownership. Only the thin, complex etchings that embellish its surface like the twists and turns of a flowering vine. But it’s not the ring’s pattern that draws He Tian’s attention; rather, it’s the protruding piece of metal that juts from where a jewel would normally be found, like that of a predator’s flattened tooth. He taps a fingertip against it and finds it prickling and dull — yet too large and sculpted to be an artisan’s simple mistake. </p><p>“...but it shouldn’t be too much work, considering you’ll be sleeping through most of it,” Jian Yi is saying, unheard. He Tian is still rolling the jewelry between his fingers when, after a period of unresponsive silence, Jian Yi asks: “He Tian? What’re you doing?”</p><p>A frown. He Tian turns to face him, holding the ring between thumb and forefinger for him to see. “Is this yours?”</p><p>Jian Yi gestures for it, and He Tian steps forward to give it to him. The blond studies the ring for a long moment, flipping it back and forth in his hand with a puzzled expression. He, too, wonders at the ring’s jutting design. </p><p>“I’ve never seen it in my life,” he says eventually, giving it back. “It looks odd, though. And old. And what is that little spike on it?”</p><p>“Not a clue.” He Tian sets down the ring on top of the bedpost to the left of the shifter’s head. Oblivious, the creature continues to sleep, hair mussed and matted with sweat against the pillow. “Something tells me the shifter has some answers, though.”</p><p>Jian Yi’s head tilts. “You think it’s his?”</p><p>“I don’t know who else it would belong to. It must’ve fallen off when we came in here last night.” His lips pull. “Just leave it there; I don’t want to deal with theft accusations when it wakes.”</p><p>Jian Yi hums with thought — then, abruptly, starts. Seemingly energized, he leans forward to pull down the bedsheets, gently grabbing hold of the shifter’s bandaged arm. Puzzled, He Tian only watches.</p><p>“That just reminded me,” Jian Yi explains as he begins to unwind the wrappings, “there was something <em> odd </em>on his arm that I saw last night — on his burned arm. I guess I never really noticed it before because it was too dark in the forest and shed, but — here, look.”</p><p>He Tian leans forward to see what Jian Yi points to. The wound itself doesn’t look much better than it did the first night they’d found the shifter. The burned flesh is still tender and pink, wet from the thin layer of salve Jian Yi had applied. But upon closer observation, He Tian sees what Jian Yi refers to: a dark, marred color, like that of a birthmark, except it circles around the entirety of the creature’s wrist like a bracelet. The burn makes it difficult to determine its exact shape and appearance, but the particular nature of its location and its hue makes He Tian raise a brow. </p><p>“It’s like ink on parchment,” Jian Yi discerns, curious. “And it’s not on his other arm, or anywhere else on his body as a matter of fact. Only on this wrist. Strange, isn’t it? It’s a mystery.”</p><p>“The entire creature is a mystery,” He Tian says, short and plain. “But we’re not here to theorize about it. Just do what you need to get it back on its feet and out of my house as soon as possible.”</p><p>His words are sharp; perhaps a bit cold. But the demand seems to bring Jian Yi back to himself. He rewraps the shifter’s arm wordlessly, lying it back at its side with care. And then he stands, brushing down his clothes that are still wrinkled from his run in the storm last night.  </p><p>“I’ll get going, then,” Jian Yi says, rubbing at his nose. “I’ll be sure to be back before nightfall. I think it’d be okay if you need to leave too, since he seems to be really out of it. But, uh, just in case, everything you may need is in my bags. I’ll leave them here; you’re free to use them whenever.”</p><p>And then Jian Yi turns to He Tian, hands slipping into his trouser pockets and leaning back on his heels, gaze downturned. He Tian already knows what’s to come. </p><p>“Last night,” the blond starts, “about what I said to you—”</p><p>“I told you to drop it,” He Tian interrupts, tone careful. “It doesn’t matter anymore. We have other pressing issues at hand that I need you to focus on.”</p><p>“Yes, but— Okay. Okay.” Jian Yi takes a deep breath, and a step back. “You’re right, I’m just— I’m sorry. That’s all. It was wrong of me to say, and I’m grateful for everything you’re doing for me right now.” He looks to the shifter. “For him.”</p><p>He Tian dips down his chin. “Go to work, Jian Yi. And wash your face in the stream on the way.”</p><p>Jian Yi shuffles on his feet, masking a poor attempt to bite back a wince of pain that the action incites. But then he nods — gaze flickering to the shifter one last time — and grabs his coat. </p><p>The front door closes quietly behind him. A draft of cold wind chills He Tian’s skin in his absence, and he is left alone with the shifter. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em> Okay, </em> Jian Yi tells himself, staring down at his warbled reflection in the water. <em> Okay, okay, everything’s okay. </em></p><p>Except, he knows, everything is not okay. The stream reveals transparent truths. His clothes are stiff, rumpled and mussed; his hair sticks out in every which way, and the bags under his eyes look like blood stains against his pale skin. He Tian was right: he looks horrible. He hadn’t slept much last night, which is more accurate to say that he hadn’t slept at all. The stitching took much longer than it ought to, his hands shaking from the cold and the adrenaline. And he’d had a scare when he pressed his fingers to the pulse in the shifter’s neck mid-cleanup and found nothing. His mind had begun to race: Why had he died? Did they not act fast enough? Was it hopeless from the start? What are they going to do with the body? </p><p>But then his fingertips sensed the weakest of throbbing — weaker than the subsequent rising and falling of the shifter’s chest — and Jian Yi had felt guilty for being relieved.</p><p>Now, the stream bubbles at him quietly, like a purring cat. Jian Yi shifts back on his heels, his skin digging into the pebbles he kneels on. He feels no pain from it, but as he watches the warmth of sunlight filtering through the trees across the way, he wonders why he feels so terribly numb. A cavernous hole straight through his chest like the feeling of falling in his dreams. </p><p>It hurts.</p><p>And Jian Yi knows he’s not entitled to it; the uncertainty, the dread, the anxiety. He owes it to He Tian to be grounded in the decision he’s made. He will be the one to forge their plan of action and see it to the end without consequence, and without any harm befalling those around him — including the shifter. </p><p>And he can do that. </p><p>Surely, he can do that. </p><p>He <em> has </em> to do that. He’s <em> committed </em>himself to do that.</p><p><em> Yes, </em> he tells himself, <em> I can do it. </em></p><p>And then Jian Yi lurches over and retches. </p><p>The birds go quiet around him; squirrels scamper away. The leaves sway with a passing breeze. The water washes away his sins.</p><p>A few moments later, he sits upright. Wipes the saliva and acid from his lips with the back of a shaky hand. </p><p>Mr. Yu will be wondering where he is. </p><p>Jian Yi brushes down his hair, pushes to his feet, and walks to the farm. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>With the exception of the <em> constant </em> apprehension at the forefront of his mind, He Tian’s day turns out to be an uneventful one. </p><p>He keeps to himself when he can, only inviting others to interact with him when the reason is justifiable. But he’s sure to show his face in the usual places he visits: a “Good afternoon,” to the elderly couple on the outskirts of the commons, a free steamed bun from the merchant woman who insists on having him meet her eldest daughter, and a quick visit to Zhan Zi Qian to make good of her promise of a fresh fruit tart that they ended up sharing.</p><p>“How’s your brother?” He Tian asked her, refilling her cup of water from a pitcher. She’d rolled her eyes.</p><p>“Didn’t talk at all this morning, but at least he isn’t rude and snappy like yesterday,” she said. Then she sighed, woeful. “Ah, Tian-ge, you’re so lucky to live by yourself. I don’t <em> ever </em> get a break from the shop, or from mom and brother. I can’t wait to be on my own.”</p><p>“I know I’m supposed to convince you otherwise, but I completely agree,” He Tian said, pushing the last bite towards her. “Family is terrible. Run away as far as you can when you get the chance.” He popped a halved-strawberry into his mouth and winked. “But visit me every once in a while, because I’ll miss your baking.”</p><p>Her face screwed up. “Only my <em> baking?” </em></p><p>He feigned confusion. “Yes, of course. What else?”</p><p>“Oh, you’re just as mean as brother!” she cried, shoving at his shoulder, but they shared a smile and a laugh and He Tian humored her dream of a big, <em> beautiful </em>garden filled with veggies and daisies behind her cottage in the woods before her mother turned the corner and said she needed help in the kitchen.</p><p>He Tian left after that, leaving Zi Qian to her woes. He returned home in the early afternoon, something tight in his stomach loosening when he turned into his bedroom and found the shifter still asleep, its breathing deep and sound. He Tian watched it for a few minutes — his gaze inexplicably drawn to the curves and notches in its horns — then took time to tend to his own wound with what he could find in Jian Yi’s bags. </p><p>Relaxing didn’t turn out to be much of an option after that, his inability to sit still being a telltale sign. And so he headed to the marketplace to scan the community message board when he was stopped by Mrs. Son, a wife of a councilman. She heartbrokenly told him of her daughter’s mare who went missing in the attack, the only evidence being a broken portion of their fencing. “There was no blood or signs of struggle,” she said. “The dragons couldn’t have taken that stubborn horse without a fight. We’re certain that she ran off in fear, but we’ve yet to find her.” </p><p>And so He Tian borrowed a neighbor’s horse and followed the trails into the woods, surveying Kuoda’s perimeter on horseback for the majority of the afternoon. The escape was merciful; the sound of the horse’s footsteps in the dry, fallen leaves was numbing. He wasn’t even sure if he’d find the mare given horses’ nature to run until their hearts stopped from fear. But he savored the time alone (away from Jian Yi’s nerves, at the very least) even as his thoughts continually returned to the guest in his house. And when he heard a sound, about two hours deep into the forest, he turned to find the missing mare, alive but collapsed on the forest floor.</p><p>Now, He Tian’s fingers loosen around the mare’s reins, exasperated. Stubborn is an understatement when it comes to this horse. He’s been leading her for over an hour now, a slow crawl back home with her fading strength, and she has collapsed once again, lanky legs folded beneath her as she breathes heavily. No amount of tugging or urging will get her back onto her feet until she decides she wants to do so, He Tian has learned. </p><p>And so as he waits for her stamina to return, He Tian dips his head in something of an apology to the people passing around them on the street. They don’t seem to mind the hindrance as much as the crimson drops of blood that have trailed behind them on the gravel. He Tian had felt the same when he’d found her, but a quick examination only showed the gash on the underside of her chest, likely collateral from jumping and breaking the wooden fence during the attack. But after the fear and adrenaline wore off, the pain had kept her from eating or moving — which, in He Tian’s case, proved to be beneficial. </p><p>“Come,” He Tian tells her now, giving a gentle tug on the reins. The horse he rides stamps its foot in impatience, and he wishes he could communicate that he feels the same. “We’ve almost returned. Just a bit further.”</p><p>He knows the mare hears him; her ears twitch tellingly. But He Tian’s relief when she finally yet exhaustedly climbs to her feet, nostrils flaring with effort, is extinguished as a familiar voice calls out to him. </p><p>“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all morning.”</p><p>He Tian exhales. Turning, he sees what he expects: Cheng, looking as cross as ever, the pull of his brow and the look in his eye dangerous. As he makes his way over, He Tian notices that his shirt is powdered with dirt and wood shavings. He can only assume Cheng has been working on a new project. </p><p>Unbidden, an image of a half-carved arrow passes through his thoughts.</p><p>“In the woods, finding animals more stubborn than you,” He Tian replies, gesturing to the mare.</p><p>Cheng frowns at her state. “She doesn’t seem well.”</p><p>“Hence why I’m in a rush to return her home, if you don’t mind.”</p><p>Cheng seems to ignore this, eyeing He Tian atop the saddle. After a moment he asks, “How is your wound?”</p><p>He Tian sighs. “That’s not the question you’ve been searching to ask me all morning. We’re both busy. What do you want?”</p><p>The disapproval runs deep through Cheng’s expression. If they had been any other pair of siblings in the town, He Tian is sure some fashion of an apology would fit here in the conversation, or at the very least a decent talk about the nature of their last conversation. But they are of the He family, and so Cheng only takes a stance that clearly conveys to He Tian that this will not be a passing conversation, and He Tian swallows down a spiteful remark. </p><p>“There’s an upcoming inter-town meeting that needs your attention,” Cheng tells him. </p><p>He Tian only looks at him. And then he turns around, tugging at the reins. “Let’s go, girl,” he tells the mare.</p><p>“He Tian,” Cheng snaps, reaching up to grab his elbow when He Tian tries to walk by. His grasp is released by a sharp jerk, and He Tian shoots him a dark look that is immediately matched. The horses snort and stamp in concern, sensing the change in mood. Curious, passersby spare a glance towards the brothers. </p><p>“Enough of this,” Cheng continues, voice lowered. “I cannot let you walk away from this one.”</p><p>“Or <em> what, </em> dear brother?”</p><p>Cheng hisses, “Or father will <em> personally </em> see to it that you obey. Your absence at the assembly did not go unnoticed, by the way. Now behave yourself in public and dismount so we can have a proper fucking conversation.”</p><p>He Tian starts to respond, but a jerk on the reins has him turning around to see the mare collapse once more, tired and pained. By the flattened state of her ears, it’ll be some time before she stands again. He Tian scowls and turns back to his brother with bitter reluctance. </p><p>“Fine,” He Tian says, swinging his leg over the horse’s back. Cheng steps back as He Tian lands in the gravel, arms crossed. They face one another. “What is it?”</p><p>“A meeting the manner of which we haven’t had in a number of years,” Cheng starts. “It’s notable. Every council from every state and town is required to attend, and it’s being held in the east side, in Jinse. We’re lucky that it’s close; it could have been a week’s journey for us.”</p><p>“And?” asks He Tian. “Don’t talk as if you’re expecting me to go.”</p><p>His brother levels him with a look. “You know that’s why I’m here.”</p><p>He Tian releases a breathy laugh, somewhere between bitterness and surprise. </p><p>“Is the council truly that <em> desperate?” </em> he asks. “To require me, the person <em> furthest </em> detached, to attend this conference? Something must be wrong, because I’m certain that father would rather slit his wrists than make an embarrassment of himself like that.”</p><p>Cheng’s jaw tightens. “You aren’t an embarrassment, He Tian. You are his son.”</p><p>“I don’t see much of a difference anymore.”</p><p>“Because you aren’t allowing for anything to change,” Cheng tells him, tone hardened. “You’d rather continue to act like a rebellious child than make something of your life.”</p><p>Anger prickles He Tian’s skin like fraying burlap. “Because my life is only valuable when I put on father’s clothes and lay my hair like him and speak like him and do everything in my power to <em> be him, </em> right, brother?”</p><p>Cheng only watches him for a few moments. The air has gotten chilly with the end of day approaching, the breeze nipping at their ears and noses, but He Tian has reason to believe the space between them is even colder. </p><p>“That is not at all what I said,” Cheng says eventually, “nor what I think. And whether you believe me or not, I don’t want to waste time over baseless arguments if we can avoid it, He Tian.”</p><p>“Then stop wasting time.”</p><p>A pause. Cheng shakes his head. “Every member of every council is required to attend, not just a handful of representatives like usual,” he says, tone flat and dry. “I can’t disclose the intentions of the conference to you right now, but this meeting won’t be like the others you have known.”</p><p>He Tian tilts his chin. “In that case, you’ve already said my answer yourself,” he says. When Cheng doesn’t respond, He Tian exhales and continues: “Despite your wishes, I’m not a designated member of the council. I never have been. So yes, you’re biased, but in reality there’s no expectation of my attendance whatsoever.”</p><p>“That is not what this is about, little brother,” Cheng gripes. “Nearly <em> all </em>of our neighbors and allies will be present. Your non-attendance will be indicative of your presence in Kuoda's council.”</p><p>“And it would be accurate, wouldn’t it?” He Tian responds sourly. “Because I’ve told you time and time again that I’m not interested, and I’m quickly running out of patience repeating myself. Stars forbid—” </p><p>And then He Tian spreads his arms out wide and announces, “Let it be known that He Tao’s son wasn’t molded in the image of him and his eldest brother, and be sure to let me know if anyone drops dead from shock.” He meets Cheng’s gaze, sharp. “Anyone other than father, of course.”</p><p>Cheng opens his mouth to say something then seems to think better of it, jaw going tight. After a moment of contemplation, the man closes his eyes and shakes his head. </p><p>“Councilman She Kang’s son, She Li, will be attending. And as you two are the same age, it would reflect poorly on father if you were not present and She Li was. Your answer right now is the final one, He Tian. The fire to end all fires.” He looks He Tian in the eye, irises black like the night skies of childhoods spent together by the fireplace — moons and moons ago. “Will you be attending the conference or not?”</p><p>The answer comes easily. </p><p>“No. Now go and deliver the news, or this horse’s death will be on you.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>When He Tian returns home in the late afternoon, he’s surprised to find Jian Yi’s coat and shoes by the door. </p><p>“You finished your work this early?” He Tian asks when he turns into his bedroom. Jian Yi has laid a cool, wet cloth across the shifter’s forehead and is working on replacing the bandaging on its leg. He Tian notes the fresh change of clothes on the shifter, slightly too small for its long arms and legs, and assumes that Jian Yi brought some of his old clothes to replace the torn, blood-stained, and water damaged ones. </p><p>“More or less,” Jian Yi replies, not pausing in his attentions. “I may have to visit the farm early tomorrow to finish some things, but I don’t mind.”</p><p>He Tian hums with a hint of dissatisfaction, then looks down to find a bowl of soup (full and cold) with a side of steamed vegetables (untouched) at the bedside. </p><p>“It hasn’t woken?” he deduces, though not entirely surprised.</p><p>“Not even a grumble,” Jian Yi answers. His disappointment is palpable albeit smothered. “I couldn’t get any food or water in him without risking choking. I think he’s been completely asleep this entire time.”</p><p>“Likely. It was asleep when I came by earlier today.”</p><p>“Same for me.” The blond shakes his head as he finishes wrapping the wound. “This will be a miserable fever to break. Like the ones my dad has sometimes — though his never seem to last this long. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the shifter is practically comatose.”</p><p>He Tian smirks. “What makes you think it isn’t?”</p><p>“He groaned when I was tending to him last night. He was in a lot of pain — and still is, I suppose.”</p><p>Pain. The thought is an interesting one. He Tian has only ever seen the shifters in pain when they’re in their dragon form, bodies writhing and jaws split with a piercing screech as the poison of the arrow lodged in their skin went into effect. He’s seen enough futile rescue attempts executed by dragons as they try to carry their dying brethren away after they’ve been struck down, and he’s drowned enough corpses in the seas to witness the blank, clouded stare of their deadened eyes. In them, he can always see their last moments of pain. </p><p>But now? Though the extent of the shifter’s injuries makes him frown whenever he lays eyes on it, He Tian can’t quite understand the nature of the shifter’s reaction. Will it cry when it wakes? Will it scream when it tries to move? He remembers how it was curled into itself when he found it that night in the woods, and wonders what that means. Pain is universal; every living thing reacts to pain or injury in some manner. So why is it that He Tian cannot fathom the idea of a humanoid shifter shuddering and sweating and crying and groaning in pain; the same pain of a burned child or a couple who’d just lost their home in an attack?</p><p>The thought nags him, but he doesn’t give voice to it. Instead, He Tian changes into a fresh set of clothes; dust and grass stains wiped away from his skin with a wet cloth. He watches Jian Yi do unnecessary things like switch out the bed’s blankets and scrub the blood and dirt from the shifter’s hair until it becomes a light-coloured rust. It doesn’t go unnoticed how Jian Yi spends extra time rubbing cautiously at the creature’s curling horns as if one wrong touch would suddenly spark life into its recipient, and how he pats at its face as though its freckled skin were made of parchment.</p><p>“Enough,” He Tian finally says when Jian Yi starts to clean its individual fingers. “You’re— <em> fretting, </em> and it’s annoying. I’ve already finished what I needed today, so go home and have a proper meal. You look like you’ll drop at any second.”</p><p>“I had a bowl of rice!” Jian Yi protests, then smirks when He Tian gives him a flat look. “Well, like you’re in any position to talk. You’ve looked like you’ve wanted to murder me ever since you came home.”</p><p>“It’s been a long day,” He Tian answers, short. Jian Yi waits for him to elaborate but he doesn’t, and if nothing else, the blond knows better than to push. </p><p>“I’ll stay with him a bit longer so you don’t have to,” Jian Yi offers. “And actually, I was thinking we should have, like, a <em> word </em>to refer to him when we’re in public. You know, like a title, or a nickname. That way we can talk more freely if we ever come across one another in town.” He bobs his head. “I was thinking ‘Red’. Short and sweet, right?”</p><p>“Your creativity stuns me every day,” He Tian responds dryly. “And I’d prefer to avoid talking about the shifter <em> at all </em>while in public. This isn't a game, Jian Yi. This will be bad if we’re caught, and that’s putting it nicely.”</p><p>“Then we’ll use it only for emergencies or small information,” Jian Yi says, a bit defensive. “There’s no harm in creating the word, is there? And besides, it’s much better than the <em> ‘it’ </em> that you’ve become comfortable with calling him.”</p><p>He Tian rolls his eyes. “I’m sure it doesn’t care how we refer to it.”</p><p>Jian Yi bristles. “I’m sure <em> he </em> would mind if <em> he </em> were awake to hear you talking about <em> him!” </em></p><p>“Fine,” He Tian concedes, sharp, because there really is no use in arguing something like this with someone like Jian Yi. “Now do me a favor in return and leave. I need some silence and that’s impossible around you.”</p><p>The blond’s brows pull together with concern. “But—”</p><p>“Go, Jian Yi. You’ve already changed it’s— <em> Red’s </em>wrappings and clothes. You’re making everything more stressful when there’s nothing more to be done at this point. We can only continue to take this day by day, and your hovering isn't going to change anything."</p><p>Jian Yi, defeated, frowns. After a while, he agrees, wobbling a bit on his feet as he cleans up the dirty bandages and rags. He sets out fresh wrapping and salves for He Tian’s wound, then finally starts for the door. It’s only when he’s carefully stepping into his boots does He Tian speak up.</p><p>“Go to Zheng Xi’s.”</p><p>Jian Yi pauses to look up at him. “What? Why?”</p><p>He Tian smirks. “At the very least, stop by before you go home. He saw you limping the other day in the markets and started overthinking it. He needs…” He Tian makes a vague gesture with his hand, and thankfully Jian Yi nods in understanding. “Just show your face so he doesn’t start to investigate the real issue.”</p><p>It’s mostly the truth. He Tian finds it decidedly more favorable to leave out the exact details of Zheng Xi’s concern. <em> He’s running away, </em> the baker had said, and He Tian doesn’t know if it should be concerning that the poor state of Jian Yi’s person is starting to make him think running away <em> would </em> be the best option for the blond. </p><p>“Okay,” Jian Yi sighs, shrugging on his coat. “I guess I can drop by.”</p><p>A pause. “I never thought I’d see the day in which Jian Yi is reluctant to see Zhan Zheng Xi.”</p><p>“It’s not—” Jian Yi huffs. He runs a hand through his hair, flustered. “It’s difficult right now. I… don’t know what to do. And with Xixi, it’s always hard to tell.”</p><p><em> Is it? </em> He Tian wonders. He tilts his head. “Well, the first rule of appearing unsuspicious is to <em> not </em>avoid the person in question.”</p><p>Jian Yi blinks. “And the second?”</p><p>“Not be you.”</p><p>“Wonderful,” Jian Yi says dryly, stepping out into the evening. “Then I’m sure this will go perfectly fine.” He smiles and waves. “Wish me luck!”</p><p>He Tian can only frown as the door closes behind him. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Trees, trees, trees, trees, trees trees trees trees.</p><p>It’s all he can see. </p><p>He’s alone. </p><p>“It is a death sentence to be alone,” they told him, and then they left him. </p><p>His wing catches on a branch. It tears through skin as though it were fabric. </p><p>There’s a blaze behind him, slowly gaining ground. His shadow gets closer and closer to him as it licks the end of his tail. Everything is orange, red, yellow.</p><p>Smoke fills his lungs. He chokes on it, and chokes, but keeps flying, flying, flying.</p><p>He can’t breathe, but he can outrun it.</p><p>He can outrun it. </p><p>He can outrun it.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jian Yi often says that He Tian’s liking to fire is, frankly and bluntly, <em> weird. </em></p><p>“We get enough fire as it is,” the blond will say, scowling at the fireplace as if he could extinguish it with looks alone. “You know, most people look out a window when they’re bored, go for a walk — or pick up a <em> book.” </em></p><p>But He Tian would ignore him, as always. And when the blond eventually gave up, leaving He Tian to sit in front of his common room’s fireplace in a familiar cushioned chair, He Tian would remain there for an indeterminate amount of time. To him, the apparent liveliness that others see in the sway of tree branches and flicker of ancestral stars is the same life He Tian can feel from the orange and yellow flames.</p><p>After all, there is a rhythm to fire. It whispers and crackles and hums without saying any words at all. The smoke tendrils twirl around one another like dancers before they’re stolen by the updraft of the chimney. And, eventually, one of the logs always gives beneath the heat; crumbles and splits into pieces of itself, bright orange embers erupting like spores from its downfall. It’s He Tian’s favorite part.</p><p>Disappointingly, however, the end of the fire’s life often comes quickly afterwards. He Tian will wait until all that remains is charcoal, glowing soft red from contained warmth as the house becomes shrouded in the night. He likes the cold of the flooring beneath his feet when he goes to bed afterwards, his energy extinguished like that of the candle on the bedside table. </p><p>“A fixation,” He Tian had heard Zheng Xi whisper one night when Jian Yi tried to start up the argument again. “Just let him be.”</p><p>He Tian had wondered about that word for a while afterwards. <em> Fixation. </em>But eventually he determined that it wasn’t so much of a fixation as it is a routine; something thoughtless to numb his head at the end of every evening. It’s something he’s done for many years now, as familiar as pulling the sheets up on his bed in the mornings or saddling a horse before mounting. </p><p>And yet, tonight, He Tian has no choice but to accept that his routine has been disturbed. </p><p>His body aches from a night of wooden floorboards and a day of riding along Kuoda’s forest. The exhale he releases after replenishing the fireplace with another log is weighted, and he settles back into his chair with equal heaviness. The fire’s lifespan has been increased multiple times over the past few hours; the sun has long set, and the stars have made their appearances. But he has no bed to return to tonight. No privacy to be had in his bedroom, because it has remained occupied by the shifter. It has been eerie, almost, moving about his home while knowing he is sharing it, and yet the rooms have stayed as quiet as they ever have been. </p><p>And so He Tian nudges at the fire with a stick, his mind decidedly less <em> numb </em>than it ought to be. He thinks of Cheng. Wonders of Zheng Xi and Jian Yi. Envisions Zi Qian’s cottage in the woods. Imagines what the thoughts of the widowed woman who had cried on Jian Yi’s shoulder would be if she came across the creature in his bed.</p><p>He’s considering the prices of spare futons sold by the elderly vendor in Jinse when there’s a muffled noise.</p><p>He pauses. For a moment, it’s only the snaps and pops of the fire, shadows dancing at his feet. </p><p>But then there’s another sound — a thud, so quiet — and then, more alarmingly, the sound of dry, gasping choking. </p><p>The stick he’d been poking the fire with is abandoned on the floor. He Tian clears the length of the house in a few wide strides, turning into the entrance of his bedroom. The fire that had been lit throughout the day still burns, albeit weakly, and He Tian can only just make out the sight of the jerking, choking shifter in its flickers of light. </p><p>And then He Tian is moving; faster than he thinks he should be. He tugs away the sheets that the shifter is twisted and sweating and writhing in, veins pulsing in its throat as it struggles to breathe, eyes screwed tightly shut. He Tian thinks to roll it on its side, as it must be choking on its own vomit — but then he recalls the full bowl of soup Jian Yi had done away with earlier that day, leaving the shifter’s stomach empty, and for a moment He Tian can only stare down at the creature. </p><p>It’s suffocating to death.</p><p><em> Ideal, </em> he thinks, except it sounds much less like himself and more like his father. <em> If not now, then when? </em></p><p>It would be easy. “I don’t know,” He Tian would say when Jian Yi returned with the sun to check on the shifter. “It was dead when I woke up. You did your best, Jian Yi. It had little chance to begin with.”</p><p>And Jian Yi would be upset; whether it’d be shown via tears or anger, He Tian doesn’t know. But, as all things, Jian Yi would eventually get over it. Zhan Zheng Xi would never hear a word, the body would be disposed of in the ocean, and they would sweep it all under the rug as though it were a bad, drunken memory. </p><p>“The choice,” Jian Yi had said that night, feet bloodied and eyes bright with uncertainty, “and the consequences, are mine.”</p><p><em> They don’t have to be mine, too, </em>He Tian reminds himself. </p><p>There’s a moment that follows; as brief as a space between characters written in ink, but seeming to pull He Tian through hollowness. He feels what can only be described as indifference as he looks down at the shifter. </p><p>He puts his hand on its shoulder and feels damp heat against his fingertips. </p><p>“Enough,” he tells it. The creature trembles and shakes almost impossibly, releasing a stuttered cough before seeming to lose its breath again. Its hand, pale and long, weakly claws at its own throat. The sight strikes a detached familiarity within He Tian — the <em> panic </em> of it a reminder of restless nights haunted by ghosts — and he grits his teeth. </p><p>“Enough,” he commands again, then pushes the shifter flat on its back when it tries to curl into itself. “You’re dreaming.” <em> Do they dream? </em>“Hallucinating. Breathe.”</p><p>The shifter doesn’t hear him. Every half-gasp drawn into its lungs sounds like the effort of parting the seas — but it becomes rattled when He Tian takes a firm hold of its shoulder and shakes it. </p><p><em> “Wake,” </em> He Tian demands. “Open your eyes and you’ll breathe.”</p><p>The shifter only splutters. Its face has gone impossibly paler, tinged with blue and purple on the edges. Its nails have drawn blood on its throat. It will die like this. He Tian sees no other option. </p><p>He slaps it. </p><p>The response is immediate. The shifter wakes, drawing in a breath so sharp and coarse that it begins to cough violently, struggling to lift itself up on a forearm in support. Beads of sweat catch on its eyelashes, its chest heaves and betrays, and He Tian cannot stop the pulse of fear in his throat when the shifter cracks open its eyes and the glowing amber makes a reappearance, hooded and framed by the dark. </p><p><em> Not a hallucination, </em>He Tian determines, throat lodged.</p><p>And then, turning with spittle on its lips and wetness in its eyes, the shifter sees He Tian. </p><p>It’s as though He Tian had been holding a weapon directly in its face. The shifter makes a choked, startled sound, jumping and scrambling weakly, sweat-slicked skin sticking to the bedsheets. It looks drunken and panicked, its limbs almost appearing too long for its body — and He Tian lurches forward when it begins to fall backwards, grabbing a handful of its shirt before it can plummet into the fireplace. </p><p>But with surprising strength, the shifter takes hold of his wrist and shoves him away, the momentum sending the creature tumbling off the bed — but, miraculously, away from the fire. He Tian steps back as the shifter collapses on the ground with a heavy thud, the bedframe screeching across the floorboards as the creature tries — and fails — to get to its feet, using the headboard for leverage. It cries out when it attempts to put weight on its injured leg, and He Tian tries to ignore the quickening of his own breath, the pounding of his heart.</p><p>Fear.</p><p>“Stop,” he commands, daring a step forward. He thinks of grabbing the shifter but decides against it, deterred by the pained and wild look in those glowing eyes. “I’m not going to— You’re hurt. Your leg, and your arm, too. Just calm down and stay still or else your stitching will—”</p><p><em> “Don’t,” </em> the shifter growls, voice weak yet throaty, and He Tian pauses when he realizes he’d been steadily approaching the creature. “Don’ <em> fuc’in’ </em>touch— me.”</p><p>And then it stumbles from its precarious position on its haunches, one white-knuckled hand gripping the bed’s loose sheets in a false sense of balance. </p><p>“I won’t,” He Tian says, curt, eyeing its every movement, calculating its safety. “But understand that I’ll have no choice if you continue this. Now take a breath and—”</p><p>His words go unheard. “Where ‘m I…?” the shifter slurs. It sounds delirious, and scared. Glassy, half-lidded eyes blink across the room, paranoid.  </p><p>He Tian swallows. “It doesn’t matter.”</p><p>The shifter reels, feverish. <em> “Yes, </em> it f-fuc’in <em> does </em> you piece of... <em> Don’— touch me!” </em></p><p>“You’re going to fucking <em> fall,” </em> He Tian seethes, hands halfway outstretched because the creature had started to sway again, dangerous and unpredictable. “You need to <em> listen, </em> you damned shifter, or you’re going to—”</p><p><em> “Fuck off!” </em> </p><p>It happens quickly. In a burst, the shifter climbs to its feet, stumbling and ungainly, crying out in pain — and its downfall follows soon after. He Tian’s body moves before his mind can follow. The creature collapses against him, dead weight nearly knocking He Tian off his feet, and he stumbles backward to regain his balance as he holds them both upright. In his arms, the shifter feels like a sack of bones.</p><p>“Bloody fucking stars,” He Tian breathes. He scowls when he feels weak strength pushing against him, trying to break away; a flash of pain makes him hiss as fingers dig into his wound. Oblivious, the shifter says something slurred and biting, but He Tian can’t understand and can’t bother to try to. Instead, he braces himself, the shifter’s resistance proving futile as He Tian drags it forward, its horns catching on the fabric of He Tian’s shirt with every step. It can do little to defend itself as He Tian unkindly heaves it back on the bed, the wooden frame creaking under the weight. The shifter gives a sharp pained sound as its wounds are jostled, its face scrunched in misery.</p><p>“We could have avoided this,” He Tian mutters in reply, repositioning its leg on the cushion. Drained, the shifter stays where it has been placed, too weak to manage anything else and too tired put up a fight. </p><p>And for a moment, there is silence; only broken breathing and a vacant, unseeing stare. He Tian looks back at the shifter and can only marvel at the nature of his situation. The creature looks like a lifeless, broken doll — paled and thin and listless in his bed. It looks nothing like dark shadows dipping in and out of the clouds, smoke trails burning against the night skies. It looks nothing like the aftermath, the remains, the flustered and swimming eyes of a child who has yet to understand. </p><p>“What are you?” He Tian asks, quiet.</p><p>There’s no response.</p><p>Feeling foolish, He Tian says nothing more. Confident that the shifter will stay where it lies, he goes into the kitchen and returns with a fresh, wet cloth. The shifter doesn’t move as he silently lays it across its forehead, replaces the bedsheets over its shoulders, repositions the bed near the fireplace, cracks open the window for a breeze. </p><p>It’s only when He Tian is striking the flint near a fresh pile of firewood does the shifter begin to mutter. </p><p><em> “Don’t,” </em> it says to everything and nothing at all, eyes squeezed shut and skin flushed and sweating. <em> “Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t...” </em> </p><p>Staring at the flame in the fireplace, He Tian wonders if he already has.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>funny story: since this fic's last update (eons ago), I rewrote and erased and rewrote this chapter more times that I can count on one hand. what you've just read is a frankensteinian creation of all those rewrites, pieced &amp; stitched together! it was absolutely painful, but I can only thank all of your love and support for helping me get through this writer's block :)</p><p>comments and kudos would mean the world! and feel free to talk to me on my <a href="https://nightfayre.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>! </p><p>thank you <i>so</i> much for reading, and please stay safe, healthy, and aware!</p>
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